


Darkest Before Dawn

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Rewritten in Time [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Budding Love, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Odd Friendships, Teenagers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 104,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6875209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are falling into place and after six years in this timeline, Draco can see light at the end of the tunnel. Granted, he knows getting to the light will not be easy. Then again, nothing Draco ever does is cut and dry so it doesn't shock him he starts dating one of his best friends, Harry decides he's a super hero, or that Nott continues to channel Draco Malfoy of the Past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paved With Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> A/N (16 May 2016): And without further ado, Year Six! *Throws major party since it’s been so long and y’all have been so patient with me and my writer’s block. Here, have a cookie. And a balloon. Oh, and here, try this homemade ice cream in a flavor of your choice. Oh, and here have this item of your choosing you’ve always wanted.* And now that you’ve been plied with presents, here’s the bad news: it’s not done. I’ve been STUCK for MONTHS upon MONTHS. I hope that in starting to post this, I can get the freaking middle written with the added pressure of having y’all reading. So, uh, here. Have some more cookies. *Holds out huge platter of whatever cookie you want*

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken from _Deathly Hallows_ by JKR.**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a time traveller. He didn’t time travel often, just once. He’d lived with the fact he was a time traveller for six years. He’d told his best friend Harry Potter (who didn’t believe him the first time) and his other best friend Hermione Granger had figured it out on her own. Professor Lupin, Sirius Black, Tom Riddle the Former Not Ghost, and Regulus Black all knew Draco was a time traveller due to Atlanta D. Black, also known as Addy, who Draco had somehow accidentally thrown back to 1976 when he’d sent his magic and soul back to his eleven-year-old body, which was not located near 1976. 

The only other person Draco thought knew he was a time traveller was Luna Lovegood, and only because she was so strange. Harry was convinced due to an offhand comment and earring change in their fourth year she was Time—the mad woman who lived in a box as theorized by a slightly mad man who wrote a book that was eerily right yet still somewhat hard to wrap ones mind around about time travel.

While a lot of people knew Draco had time travelled, his mother did not. Draco had not told her. She’d blindsided him with a simple question, asked in a casual manner as if she’d simply asked him about his day.

She had not, though. She’d asked if he when he planned to tell her he was a time traveller.

Narcissa Malfoy was now staring at Draco, who for the past five minutes had been wordlessly opening and closing his mouth unable to find words.

She sighed.

“I want you to at least congratulate me on figuring it out on my own,” she said, shaking her head and going back to the papers on her desk. “It took me quite a bit of time to parse out time travel was involved. It took me mere moments after I reasoned time travel into the equation to pin point when you’d changed and finally know the reason for this change.”

“How?”

Narcissa glanced up, folding a piece of parchment and stuffing it in an envelope. “Sirius and Regulus look to you when something major occurs— as if you know what the outcome. It happened when Regulus returned and it occurred after Sirius was attacked last winter. It was then I began to contemplate time travel. I guessed you must have used an illegal and highly dangerous method to travel back to your eleven-year-old self, as that was when your behavior changed drastically. At the time, I brushed it off as you growing up, but that wasn’t it at all. You were too mature, too different.”

Draco pressed his lips together. Narcissa paused in what she was doing, stilling her hands and causing silence to fall in the room.

“It was bad, wasn’t?” She glanced up, meeting his eye.

“Yes.”

She nodded, looking back down at the letters on her desk. “We were on the wrong side.”

“Yes.”

Narcissa nodded once more, checking something off on a list. “Anything I ought to worry about this coming school year?”

“No.”

Narcissa sharply looked up at Draco. “Do not coddle me. I am your mother, no matter where you came from.”

“I know you’re my mother, but unless you know a way to prevent Marv from…well, from giving Nott the task of killing Dumbledore due to his father’s failure at life, then…”

“It was you last time,” Narcissa stated.

Draco nodded. “I couldn’t do it. Snape did it.”

Narcissa looked shocked. “Severus? That makes no sense.”

Draco squirmed under her intense scrutiny. “He is a Death Eater.”

Narcissa laughed in diversion. “He is not. Rid—Marv lost his loyalty when he went after Lily Potter.”

“Because they were friends?” Draco asked.

Narcissa eyed him. “Yes. They’d been friends since childhood.”

Draco nodded.

“I believe it was a friendship like you and Hermione, only it went sour due to his interest in the Dark Arts then his political leanings.”

Draco frowned. Though, if life was different, and Marv went after Hermione, he might— no. Draco couldn’t understand.

“Then why did he kill Dumbledore if he’s on our side?”

Narcissa sat back in her chair and stared hard at a spot over Draco’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything for five minutes. Draco shifted on his feet uneasily.

“I’ve no answer for you now. Have you told Dumbledore?”

“About what?”

“That you’ve time travelled.”

“Not exactly. I believe he knows. He was instructed by Addy Black, you know the one that was at Hogwarts in the 1970s? He was instructed by her to give me a letter should I do something that appeared out of character.”

“Addy Black?” Narcissa questioned.

“Yeah. She was…Well, her name was Atlanta Siria Black and I had known her as a child. I never really liked her too much and when I started school, I cut off all contact. She went to school in America and I saw her maybe twice before the night I time travelled. I don’t know how, but she got sent back to 1976 when I sent myself back to 1991.”

Narcissa gasped, her light blue eyes going impossibly wide.

“I’ve never outright told Dumbledore,” Draco went on. “I try not to tell people.”

“Besides Sirius and Regulus, who knows? Does Harry know?”

“Yes. I told him first year, but he didn’t believe me. Hermione figured it out on her own second year.”

Narcissa appeared rather pleased by this information.

“And third year it all came out because Lupin and Sirius knew due to being friends with Addy. I was the Malfoy boy she was yelling for when she arrived.”

Narcissa nodded. “Who is Tom?”

“What do you mean? He’s TR DeVinette’s son.”

“No. He’s not,” Narcissa said, giving him a look that said _I am not stupid_. “Who is he really?”

“Tom Riddle.”

“The Tom Riddle?”

“A Tom Riddle,” Draco sighed, then told his mother the tale of how Tom Riddle the Former Not Ghost came into being and wound up a Real Boy.

“That is why Harry looked uncomfortable when I referred to Voldemort as Riddle,” Narcissa realized, looking away and out the window besides the desk.

“Yeah. They’re…friends.”

Narcissa snorted. “If you say so, dear.”

Draco pressed his lips together.

“Is there anything else I do not know?”

Draco looked helpless and worked hard not to shrug at his mother.

“Tom is TR DeVinette,” Draco offered.

“I figured as much. Tom Riddle _Riddle_ ,” she muttered. “So, nothing else?”

Draco shook his head, wearing a helpless expression.

“So, this coming school year, what might Nott be likely to do?” Narcissa inquired.

“Well, since Time likes to make Nott a clone of myself, he’ll try to kill Dumbledore with a cursed necklace and poisoned mead and fail at getting these items to Dumbledore, but they’ll fall into the hands of Gryffindors. He will spend most of the year trying to mend the Vanishing Cabinet.”

“Well, we cannot let him do that.”

“We might not be able to stop him,” Draco quietly said. “It leads to the big showdown at the end of the summer and—”

“There are fixed points in time, yes. I read that book. That is the time theory you subscribe to?”

“Well, yes. It seems correct from past experience,” Draco offered.

Narcissa nodded, looking away once more. “We ought to tell Dumbledore his life is in danger.”

“What if…Dumbeldore’s right hand was black at the start of the school year,” Draco remembered. “He tried to hide it, but it was visible and…and when I went to….” Draco waved his hand, unable to say it, but he didn’t need to, as his mother nodded for him to continue, “On the roof where I….cornered him, he was very weak. I disarmed him.”

“You disarmed him?”

“Yes. I disarmed Dumbledore. With the same spell Harry and Potter used to save their lives fourth year.”

“Potter is the Harry Potter from the previous timeline?”

Draco nodded and Narcissa waved a hand for Draco to continue his tale.

“Dumbledore kept…falling down the ramparts as if he couldn’t stay up. I didn’t think of it much at the time…” Draco trailed off.

“You were scared out of your mind,” Narcissa softly said.

“He said he’d kill you if I failed,” Draco whispered, huddling into himself.

Draco had not thought about sixth year much since returning, save for when he had to write the highlights on the Time Travel Parchment of Fun Times for Hermione. He’d glossed over many things so he didn’t have to contemplate them deeply. 

He felt arms around him and the comforting smell of his mother surrounded him.

“You were just a boy,” she quietly said. “Force to pay for your father’s mistakes.”

“Snape said you and him had made an Unbreakable Vow,” Draco remembered. “I don’t know about what, but…”

“Oh,” Narcissa breathed. “That could explain why Severus…I might have asked him to do it if you failed.”

Draco had never thought of that before.

“Nott does not have a mother do to that for him,” Naricssa realized, holding Draco tighter. “Lady Nott died years ago.”

Draco nodded, holding onto his mother like a small child. He didn’t care he was sixteen going on whatever. He needed his mother.

“But, if Dumbledore is dying from a curse, he might have requested Severus do it to save your soul and to prevent him from a terrible, painful death,” Narcissa muttered into Draco’s shoulder.

Draco was so much taller than his mother this time around. Then again, by this point he’d stopped letting his mother hug him, so how was he to really know? 

“Besides Dumbledore’s death, what occurred?”

“Nothing really…it was a rather quiet school year,” Draco admitted. “Granted, I did not pay much attention as I was occupied by my task. I mean…there were a lot of deaths reported I think, but I can’t remember everyone who died.”

“Understandable,” Narcissa murmured. “Well, let’s not think on it now.”

“Dumbledore’s death led to Voldemort gaining control of the Ministry of Magic and taking over everywhere,” Draco whispered.

“Well, I will not let that happen,” Narcissa proclaimed, pushing away from Draco and holding him at arm’s length. “The only way to gain control in the Ministry would be to do away with the Minister and put a puppet in, correct?”

Draco nodded.

“He did this?”

Draco nodded.

“He will not this time,” Narcissa vowed.

“What will you do?”

Narcissa smirked. “What I am good at: plotting and carrying it out. Do not worry. I will speak to Dumbledore about placing Order members in the Minister’s cabinet.”

“They were already—”

“And myself.”

“But…but…but…”

Narcissa smiled sharply. “I’m not simply a society witch. Nor does it make me happy. I’d like to get my hands dirty.” 

* * *

Severus Snape did not often run, partly due to the nature of his clothing and partly due to his physic. He was gangly—tall and thin. His legs had never handled running well.

He ran now, though, forsaking his pride.

Severus shouted the inane password and shot up the stairs. The sight that greeted him inside the office was worse than expected. He rushed across the room to the slumped headmaster, kneeling down and drawing his wand out.

Stupid, stupid, stupid man.

Severus looked at the blackened hand, glanced at the ring and fang on the desk, then hurried to find a golden goblet to pour the potion into before he began the incantations to keep the curse contained to Dumbledore’s hand. Severus dug around the overstuffed cabinet near where Dumbledore stored his Pensive. He dumped the potion into the goblet he procured and hurried back over to the slumped old man. He set the goblet on the desk, then placed the hand on the desk being careful not to touch it with his bare skin. Pointing his wand at the old man’s wrist, he began muttering steady. When he came to the right point, he used his free hand to dump the potion down the headmaster’s throat making sure the gold touched the old man’s lips.

He finished his incantations and waited a moment for Dumbledore’s eyelids to flutter open.

“Why would you put that ring on?” Severus demanded. “You realized the curse it carries is quite Dark since you’ve got the fang out.”

Dumbledore grimaced as Severus waved his hand at the fang, eyes going back to the ring upon his desk. It was an ugly ring, old and crudely made. No one would notice it unless versed in magic due to the Dark magic pouring out. And anyone with a lick of sense would know not to touch it.

“I was a fool…an old fool,” Dumbledore muttered, still staring at the ring. “Sorely tempted…”

“Tempted by what? The curse does not call out for a person to put it on,” Severus remarked, turning back to the ring. He bent down and stuck his nose as close as he dared to the ring. “And you stabbed it with the fang. You stabbed the stone. So, there was more than one curse on this ring?”

Severus turned his attention to Dumbledore when he did not answer but sighed deeply. Upon seeing the faraway expression on the old man’s face, Severus pressed his lips together and took a few steps away from the desk.

“I contained the curse to your hand,” Severus stated. “I don’t know how you even…never mind. The curse is powerful, though, so while contained, it will spread eventually.”

Dumbledore lifted his withered, blackened right hand and examined it with a mild expression of interest.

“Very well done, Severus. How long do you think I have?” Dumbledore inquired conversationally.

Severus mashed his lips together and fisted his hands. “I cannot tell. Maybe a year. I’ve only halted it and the curse is one that will grow stronger as it festers.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore said agreeably. “I wouldn’t expect less.”

Dumbledore turned his attention to Severus and smiled.

“I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, I have you, Severus.”

Severus puffed out an annoyed breath. “If you’d called me sooner, I’d’ve been able to do more. Given you more time. You stabbed the stone but were unable to stab the…ring?”

“So it seems. In my…haste, I failed to see the second curse. I expect that was the point, though.”

Severus frowned, knitting his eyebrows together. He bent over and stuck his nose as close to the ugly ring as he dared. He studied the stone carefully. It had a crude design that was visible even though the stone was cracked down the middle, but it wasn’t one he recognized. Looked somewhat like maybe a triangle with a circle inside. The crack was down the middle, jutting of to the side. There might be a line down the middle.

“In due time, Severus. In due time,” Dumbledore assured, straightening himself in the chair.

Severus glanced at him before going back to studying the ring. He stared at the symbol. The longer he looked, the more familiar it seemed. Severus remembered rather suddenly where he’d seen the symbol before: history books. It had been the mark Grindelwald, which wasn’t really his mark but the symbol for the Deathly Hallows— something Grindelwald believed in. Severus slowly raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore’s as he straightened.

“That’s the thing Regulus Black has been searching for, isn’t it?”

“What makes you say that?”

Severus shrugged. He didn’t know exactly what Regulus Black did for the Order, nor did he believe the story the boy had been “abroad” and was a bastard of Alphard Black’s. He was somehow the Regulus Black Severus had known who’d vanished along with Atlanta D. Black. The Dark Lord had professed to killing Atlanta D. Black, but Regulus Black wasn’t a death he claimed. (He’d taken his wrath at loosing Regulus on Bellatrix, not that she’d really cared. She was so twisted that any attention the Dark Lord paid her caused her joy.)

“Well, this makes matters more straight forwards,” Dumbledore proclaimed, looking at his useless hand.

Severus gave Dumbledore a perplexed look.

“I am talking about Lord Voldemort’s plan to kill me, Severus,” Dumbledore cheerfully explained, smiling and twinkling. “I believe he’s assigned the task to Theodore Nott as punishment for his father failures?”

Severus stiffly nodded, sitting down in the chair across from Dumbledore. “He concluded if he gave the task to the other two boys…”

“It’d not be done properly?” Dumbledore offered.

“I believe he feared they’d actually succeed.”

“Hmmm,” Dumbledore hummed.

“Yes, the Dark Lord wishes to slowly torture the Nott family. If you die, it is simply a bonus.”

“Theodore is the only son of that branch, is he not?”

Severus nodded. “The families future rides on Mr Nott.”

Dumbledore made an amused noise once again. “I expect Mr Nott has a price upon his head, would you say not?”

“Yes.”

“And the life of his aunt is on the line, correct?”

“Correct. The woman raised him,” Severus supplied.

“She is not a Death Eater.”

“No, but she is being currently…entertained at Malfoy Manor.”

Dumbledore snorted. “Well, assuming Mr Nott fails as expected, I think you a natural successor to the job.”

Severus blinked.

“Lord Voldemort sees a future where he will have no need for a Hogwart’s spy, I believe.”

“He believes the school will be in his grasp if you are gone, yes,”Severus whispered. “While he doesn’t believe Nott will do the job, someone else will. Nott’s goal is to let in his fellow Death Eaters. Somehow.”

“When this occurs, do I have your word you will protect Hogwart’s students?”

Severus sat up straight. “Of course.”

“Good. Now, your first priority will be to stop Draco Malfoy from trying to foil Mr Nott’s attempts to kill me.”

“Pardon?” Severus asked, staring askance at the headmaster.

“Oh, yes, you don’t know. Draco Malfoy is a time traveller. Has been since he began school. No, don’t look at me like that. I always knew a Malfoy was going to be a time traveller, just not which one. It’s not important. What is important, likely, is Draco will try to save my life. I am sure I died in the last timeline.”

Severus blinked a few times and pushed his nails into his palms as hard as he could, but he didn’t wake up.

“If you were the one to kill me last time—“

“What are you talking about?”

“Time travel.”

“Draco time travelled when he was eleven?”

“No. He sent his soul back in time from when he was older to his eleven-year-old self. I try not to ask too many questions.”

Severus stared.

“Now, as I was saying, if you did killed me in the last timeline, it’s likely Draco and company will try to prevent you from doing so this time, but you must not let them. Nor let them interfere with Mr Nott’s labors.”

Severus bent his head and kneaded his forehead. “Let me get this straight. Draco Malfoy is from the future, has lived this life once before?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“And you are assuming in his first life I killed you?”

“As you will do so again.”

“Pardon?”

“You must do the deed, Severus.”

“Oh, excuse me. When would you like me to do it? Now? Do you need a few moments to write up an epitaph?”

“Oh, not quite yet, Severus. There are a few things I must get done before I depart,” Dumbledore replied easily. “Given what happened tonight, I’d daresay I have a year to get an epitaph written, don’t you agree?”

“If you don’t mind dying, why not let Nott do it?”

“That boy’s soul is not yet damaged,” Dumbledore pointed out. “I would not have it ripped apart on my behalf.”

“And my soul, Dumbledore? Does that mean nothing?”

“You alone know if doing this will damage your soul. You would not be murdering me, but saving me from pain and humiliation of dying from this curse,” Dumbledore quietly said, holding his hand up. “Death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish at the bottom of the league once more this year. I confess I’d prefer a quick and painless exit than a messy one. I know it is a lot to ask of a person, Severus, but you are the only one who I trust to do this.”

Severus doubted that a little, but nodded nonetheless. Killing Dumbledore was an undertaking no Death Eater had been able to achieve. Even the Dark Lord himself had failed.

“Now, I would ask you, Severus, to rid this ring of the curse it still holds. I wish to return it to its proper owner.”

Severus stared at the headmaster blankly before sighing deeply.

* * *

Tom Riddle had not set foot on Diagon Alley since the 1930s. While there were some shops that had changed, evolved, or vanished all together, Olivander’s store front had remained the same, right up to the buildup of dust on the wands displayed in the front window.

“Are we going in?” Lupin asked mildly.

“Yes,” Tom decided, marching forward.

Tom was looking forward to getting a wand of his own, yet knew Ollivander would see through their cover story and that made him nervous. Luckily, upon entering, the shop was void of people. It wasn’t back to school season, so it would likely remain so. Letting himself relax a little, Tom gazed around. The shop looked frozen in time— it even smelled the same. For all Tom knew, the same dust that had been in the shop when he had first ventured in over fifty years prior was still sitting around.

“Ah. Interesting,” came a quiet voice from the shadows.

“Mr Ollivander,” Lupin greeted.

“Mr Lupin, I am sorry for your loss,” Ollivander lamented in a soothing, yet creepy manner. “She was a powerful witch, phoenix feather and monterillo, thirteen and a half inches. Rather long for such a small child.”

Lupin looked as if he swallowed a lemon. Ollivander’s eerie, silvery eyes moved to Tom and he stared.

He stared for ten minutes.

“I’ve seen a version of you before. Very secretive and independent the first time you were here, were you not?” the spooky eyes drifted to Lupin for a moment before landing back on Tom.

“Yes.”

“How you’ve changed.”

Tom didn’t respond. The tapes appeared and began to measure Tom while Ollivander went on staring. Tom stayed still till Ollivander hummed and the tape measure and the old man vanished into the stacks of wands. It felt like a lifetime before the old man appeared with a few boxes and set them down on the table that appeared next to Tom.

“You will need a rare wand, something out of the ordinary as you will never be mundane,” Ollivander offered, blowing on the boxes and making dust fly into the air. “Your counterpart has a yew wand, phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches.”

“Correct.”

Ollivander hummed, then ordered, “Try this.”

Tom took the offered wand. Upon feeling nothing, he handed it back. Ollivander took another wand out before vanishing into the stacks again. Tom waved the wand, put it back into the box, and covered it up. He waited till Ollivander handed him the box with the wand in it. Frowning, Tom opened the box and stared at the most beautiful wand he’d ever seen. It was a reddish brown wood with an interesting grain that went sideways instead of up and down like most wands Tom had seen. He glanced up at Ollivander.

“It’s Ziricote,” Ollivander whispered as he moved closer. “Rare wood. I hardly ever use it as it must be imported from South America and they hoard it down there for their own wands. Unless the Muggles get it.”

“What do they make out of it?”

“Mostly musical instruments. Guitars,” Ollivander said.

Tom looked at him sharply, remembering the gorgeous guitar his counterpart had made for Atlanta Lupin before he’d given into his horrible nature.

“The core?” Tom inquired.

He knew this was his wand. He could feel the hum around his hands from just holding it in the box.

“Dragon heartstring,” Ollivander replied. “Twelve inches. A little shorter than….”

“Good,” Tom proclaimed, picking the wand up.

Before he could even cast a spell the wand sent sparks of happiness out the end. Tom smiled, as it’d been so long since he’d actually held a wand—other than Harry’s. But he’d been unable to cast a spell with Harry’s wand before Harry took it back, so now, he cast his first spell in nineteen years. And there was one charm he was dying to try, especially with his new found emotions and ability to feel happiness and love.

“Tom?” Lupin quietly asked, likely seeing the look on Tom’s face.

Tom smiled softly, recalling his most happiest memory. It was not of him being solid. It was not a memory of creating spells and making heaps of gold. No. It was the memory of his friends, because Tom Marvolo Riddle the Former Not Ghost had friends. He recalled a moment from the previous summer where he and Harry sat in his room simply listening to whatever terrible music Harry was currently into. Tom remembered thinking as he watched Harry dance badly around his room (if you could call it dancing) how happy he was.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” Tom whispered and watched an elk burst out of his wand and gallop around the small room before standing before Tom. Tom let out a shaky laugh before he collapsed to the ground. “Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

“Is that…” Lupin trailed off as the elk became wispy and vanished.

“It’s an elk,” Ollivander helpfully said. “Mostly seen in North America. Some in the Rocky Mountains or areas of the like.”

Lupin’s eyes looked like they were about to burst out of his head.

“Don’t tell Harry,” Tom whispered, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

“It’s your story to tell, Tom,” Lupin professed quietly.

Tom shot Lupin a dirty look before he carefully placed the wand back into the box, wrapping it back up in the green silk. Ollivander took it and wrapped it up in paper and placed it into a bag. He turned back to Tom and told him the price.

The price had gone up quite a bit since Tom’s original wand purchase.

Ollivander smiled, his slivery grey eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the shop. “You will do great things with this wand. And not terrible things, but great things.”

Tom nodded stiffly and handed over the gold. He took the bag and quickly exited the shop, Lupin on his heels.

“Don’t you even look smug,” Tom warned without looking at Lupin.

“Why would I look smug?”

“Because,” Tom said but didn’t elaborate.

“Because, when he’s not trapped at the Dursleys or Hogwarts, I tend to find a certain black haired boy in my flat every morning looking as if he slept there?” Lupin innocently inquired. “Or because the animal lives in North America, in the Rocky Mountains where your best friend spent her formative years?”

Tom stopped walking, turning to look Lupin in the eye.

“It makes sense, does it not? Harry’s takes the form of a stag due to his father, who he looks up to and loves without question. Hermione’s in an otter— otters are quite clever.”

“Lily’s was a doe,” Lupin quietly said.

Tom blinked.

“Severus’ is also a doe.”

Tom blinked again. 

“Mine happens to be a great, big, slobbery dog,” Lupin said. “Even after all these years.”

“I won’t mention that to Sirius if you don’t mention the elk to Harry.”

“Oh, Tom. The elk could be for so many reasons other than Harry. McGonagall’s is a cat. Maybe you’re destined to turn into an elk?” Lupin smiled, clapping Tom on the shoulder.

Lupin did this often, as if to assure himself Tom was in fact solid. Tom would never admit it, but he liked it. He’d been terrified (not that he’d concede that either) Lupin would reject him due to the fact his own daughter had to die in order for Tom to be solid. Lupin, being the lovely soul he was, didn’t see it like this at all. His daughter was dying and instead of simply perishing and leaving Tom stranded, she granted him life with her own (and Harry’s horcrux—they were positive, since Harry no longer was an Emotional Voldemort Detector and his head was no longer leaking Marv’s ugly soul magic). Tom did worry that Lupin might try to over parent Tom, but never having a parental figure before, he wasn’t sure how he’d spot this or not. So far, other than the extra manly touching, Lupin was the same— sadder, but mostly the same.

“Do you want to finish the rest of your school shopping?”

“I don’t have the book list,” Tom pointed out.

“Ah, but we know the basics,” Lupin said, dropping his hand from Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll need a chest, robes, potion ingredients, scales, cauldron, and those sorts of things. Oh, a broom?”

“If I wish to have a broom, I’ll use one of the hundreds Sirius has,” Tom pointed out. “Why the man has so many brooms is beyond me.”

“People send them for Harry,” Lupin muttered. “Or do you wish to wait a few weeks till the others go shopping for their school supplies. The lists ought to come out after Harry’s birthday.”

Tom studied the street. “Let’s do robes and the big stuff today. I should have my OWL scores soon, and until then I won’t know what I’m taking, so I’ll wait until the lists come out to buy books.”

“I cannot believe Dumbledore found a way for you to take the OWLs,” Lupin chuckled, shaking his head. “Robes first?”

Tom nodded and the pair set off for the robe shop.


	2. The Power of Harry

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken from _Halfblood Prince_ by JKR. **

* * *

Harry kind of wished Tom wasn’t solid. While a horrible desire, as the poor guy deserved to be solid like a normal human being, it meant Tom was unable to accompany Harry on his two week sojourn to the Dursley’s. Not knowing what to do with himself, Harry spent his days lying spread eagle on his bed staring at the ceiling. No one in the house came to check on him and the only way Harry knew they realized he was even in the house was the fact his aunt pushed food under the cat flap twice a day.

Harry didn’t honestly care. He only ate because he knew he had to.

Kind of like how he only answered the letters that arrived because if he didn’t more would burry him and he was tired of reading letters about what he ought to be doing. Everyone was worried Harry was grieving properly. They never outright said it, but he read the concern behind their words. Harry hadn’t shown any signs of grief before leaving Hogwarts. Tom, oddly enough, displayed his grief for all to witness. Ginny had allowed tears to furiously fall a few times before they’d left for summer holiday. Luna was more quiet in her grief, but Harry saw it in her grey eyes. Draco and Hermione clung to one another more than usual.

Harry, well, Harry stared at his ceiling and blamed himself.

He’d let Atlanta take the fake prophecy.

If he’d not done that, Bellatrix wouldn’t have stabbed Atlanta in retaliation for Atlanta smashing the glass globe, thus Atlanta wouldn’t have been so weak when she took on Voldemort, so he wouldn’t have killed her.

Marv killed her because she was already dead. He’d said so himself.

It was Harry’s fault she was almost dead when she faced her tormentor.

Harry sat up and furiously wiped his face, which was wet.

He did cry. In the privacy of his bedroom at number 10 Privet Drive. Alone, where no one could hear or see him.

Swinging, his legs over the bed, Harry took in the disaster of the room. He’d smashed quite a few things upon arriving, letting loose where no one could see. The TV and VCR Tom had had him fix the previous summer were once more broken, only this time beyond repair. Everything in the room had been subject to Harry’s wrecking ball (aka his fists and feet, and one time his knee). Looking at his hands, he wondered what he’d tell Dumbledore when the man came to retrieve him. His knee was hurt (pretty sure he’d twisted it), his hands were a mess, and he’d broken a toe.

Knowing Dumbledore, he’d not bother to ask why Harry was limping and his hands looked as if he’d gone a few rounds with a brick wall.

Harry wiped his face once more with his hands before standing and looking around for his trunk. He’d never bothered to unpack it, simply wore Dudley’s old clothing he’d left behind as an eleven-year-old (they were still too big and he had no idea how he’d worn them at eleven). However, if he was leaving tonight for Grimmauld Place, he ought to dress properly or Aunt Narcissa (if she was still awake at the ungodly late hour Dumbledore was getting him) would dither. All he wanted was to go to bed.

Throwing the trunk open, Harry quickly found a set of Muggle clothes. It felt strange to be wearing clothes that fit him properly. He stared down, feeling as if he wasn’t himself. Checking the time, he slammed the trunk as the doorbell sounded downstairs.

Right on time.

Though, he ought to have known Dumbledore was about, as the streetlights were all out, yet none of the other lights were out on the street. Dumbledore had done something to the streetlights so no one would notice the oddly dressed figure strolling down the street at eleven at night.

“Who the blazes is calling at his time of night?” shouted Uncle Vernon.

Harry snorted as he hoisted his trunk up and headed out of the room.

“Good evening, you must be Mr Dursley,” Dumbledore greeted politely. “I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?”

Oops. Harry knew he’d forgotten something.

“Judging by your stunned look of disbelief, Harry did not warn you,” Dumbledore sighed as Harry began to head down the stairs carefully as not to be smashed by his trunk or further injure himself. Dumbledore looked up at the noise and shook his head, a small smile on his face. He turned his attention back to Uncle Vernon and pleasantly said, “Let us assume you’ve invited me inside, as it is best not to dawdle overlong on doorsteps in these dangerous times.”

Dumbledore, in his rather muted dark traveling cloak and black pointed hat, stepped over the threshold and into the entry. He closed the door behind him and eagerly looked around.

“It’s been quite awhile since my last visit,” Dumbledore offered. “Your agapanthus is flourishing.”

Vernon Dursley said nothing. Harry doubted this would last, as the man didn’t remain speechless for long when Harry wished for him to be silent. It was like Uncle Veron had a seventh sense.

“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted, looking pleased to see Harry. “Excellent, excellent.”

That did it. Anyone who would see Harry and say “excellent” was a man who Vernon Dursley would never see eye to eye.

“I don’t mean to be rude—“ he began, in a tone that told the world he meant to be just that.

“Ah, yet, sadly accidentally rudeness happens more often than not,” Dumbledore interrupted, heading into the lounge. “We’re going to assume you politely invited me to sit in this lovely sitting room. Oh, I take this is Dudley. Lovely to meet you.”

Dudley peered at Dumbledore from behind the door to the kitchen, his large head looking disembodied rising up out of his stripy collar of his pajamas. He stared at Dumbldore with wide eyes filled with terror. Dumbledore met the boy’s stare with a look of concern before turning to Harry.

“Aren’t we leaving, sir?” Harry asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs and dropping the handle on his trunk. It fell to the floor with a solid thunk as Harry ignored the pain in his twisted knee. He was pretty sure he’d lost feeling in his foot and that was why his toe wasn’t burning in pain.

“In a moment. I must go over a few things with your aunt and uncle,” Dumbledore said, sweeping fully into the living room. “We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle hospitality a while longer.”

“You will, will you?”

Uncle Vernon entered the room, pushing Harry out of the way. Harry stumbled into Aunt Petunia, who’d emerged from her nightly scrub down of the kitchen still wearing her rubber gloves and smelling strongly of disinfectant. She grabbed hold of Harry, righted him, then peered into the sitting room.

“Yes, I shall,” Dumbledore decided, pulling out his wand.

Several things happened at once. Dudley squeaked, Petunia shrieked, and Vernon fell over. Mostly to avoid getting a sofa to the head as for some unknown reason Dumbledore felt the need to rearrange the furniture.

“Please sit,” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Only Petunia sat down.

Dumbledore looked at Dudley, who darted a look at his mother before he scampered over and plastered himself to her side. Vernon pulled himself to his feet and looked as if he was going to bellow, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He furiously glared at Dumbledore.

“Might as well be comfortable,” Dumbledore said mildly.

Vernon marched over and sat down, glaring at Dumbledore.

“I think a drink would be wasted on this group, correct?” Dumbledore asked Harry.

“Yeah. We ought to just go, sir,” Harry urged.

“One moment, Harry. I must go over something with your family,” Dumbledore said, turning his attention back to the three Dursleys on the sofa. “As you are no doubt aware, Harry comes of age in a year’s time—”

“No,” Aunt Petunia said, looking at Dumbledore as if he were more batty than she already thought he was.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn’t turn eighteen until a year after next.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said pleasantly, “but in the wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen.”

“Preposterous,” Uncle Vernon muttered.

“Now,” Dumbledore went on, ignoring Uncle Vernon, “as you already know a wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort has returned. The British Wizarding Community is currently in a state of open warfare.”

Harry glanced at his relatives, assuming none of them would have a clue what Dumbledore was talking about, but Aunt Petunia looked horrified.

“Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on numerous occasions, is in greater danger now than the day I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago with a letter explaining about his parents’ murder and expressing the hope that you would care of him as if he were your own.”

Petunia pressed her lips together and sent a sidelong look at Vernon.

“You did not do as I asked,” Dumbledore continued in the same pleasant tone, yet a chill filled the room and the Dursleys all drew back on the couch. “You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting on the sofa.”

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around for this mistreated boy, but the only person other than them on the couch was Dudley.

“The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house ‘home.’ However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday for the allotted two weeks. Once he turns seventeen, I doubt you shall see him again.”

“Where will he go?” Dudley asked, looking surprised he’d asked.

“Home,” Harry replied, turning to exit the lounge.

“But this is your home. He’s just said so,” Dudley insisted.

Harry turned back to his cousin. “I’ll live with Aunt Narcissa and my godfather Sirius Black in London.”

“Harry, it is time to go,” Dumbledore said, rising. He turned to the Dursleys. “Until we meet again.”

Dumbledore swept out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his family.

“Bye,” Harry hastily mumbled, hurrying after Dumbledore, who paused by Harry’s trunk.

“Where is your owl?”

“With Tom,” Harry answered. “She’s not welcome here, so Tom took her for the summer.”

Dumbledore nodded. “We do not need to be encumbered by the trunk, so I shall send it to Grimmauld Place to await us. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak.”

Harry extracted the Cloak from the trunk, then slammed it shut. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Dumbledore smiled, pulled his wand out, and waved it over the trunk. The trunk vanished at the same moment the front door swung open, allowing some cool, misty air to drift into the house.

“And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but followed Dumbledore out into the night. It was distinctly awkward following after the headmaster, and not because Harry kept struggling to keep up. Harry had never seen the man outside of Hogwarts, so not having a desk between them made Harry feel strange and off-kilter.

“Keep your wand ready, Harry,” Dumbledore advised brightly as he marched down the darkened street.

“But, I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school, sir,” Harry reminded him.

“If there is an attack, I give you permission to use any counter jinx or hex that might occur to you. However, I doubt we will be attacked as you are with me.”

Dumbledore came to an abrupt halt at the end of Privet Drive. He pulled out some sort of device, clicked it. All the streetlights popped back on, except the one they were standing under.

“You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test.”

“No,” Harry sighed.

“You’ve travelled this way before?”

“Yes. I don’t like it,” Harry offered, then added, “sir.”

“Ah, no doubt. It is highly unpleasant. Well, please grab on my left arm, if you don’t mind— as you might have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment.”

Harry had not noticed, actually. He tried to look, but Dumbledore was offering his left arm, so Harry took it and decided later to see what was going on with the right.

“Very good. Grip hard and do not let go,” Dumbledore said. “And off we go.”

Harry felt Dumbledore’s arm twist away from him and held on tight. The pressure of being pressed through a straw occurred and everything went black. Harry could not breathe for the iron bands around his chest and everything was pressing inwards.

It was a horrible way to travel.

And yet, as soon as the discomfort began, it ended and Harry sucked in lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes.

“It’s been awhile, yes?” Dumbledore chuckled, taking in Harry’s reaction.

“It’s…worse when it’s not a House Elf,” Harry admitted.

Dumbledore frowned amusedly and shrugged. “Good to know. Now, this way.”

He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few darkened houses. Harry had no clue where they were, but according to the clock on a nearby church tower it was a little passed midnight. Grinding his teeth, he set off after the headmaster.

“Has your scar been hurting you since you’ve left school?”

“No, sir,” Harry said, unconsciously rubbing his scar. “Before we left school, Tom was positive it was no longer leaking Voldemort’s magic and Draco didn’t feel any magic coming out of my head. However, neither is as good as At—“ Harry stopped, feeling as if he was going through Apparition suddenly and unexpectedly.

“No, they would not be. She was rather gifted. But, Tom can see magic, can he not?”

“Faintly,” Harry said, gulping and trying to clam his heart. “H-h-he shares some…stuff.”

“Hmmm.”

“I’m glad I’m no longer an Emotional Marv Detector,” Harry proclaimed, trying to inject strength into his voice.

Dumbledore stopped walking and turned to face Harry. “Would you mind if I took a look?”

“Meaning?”

“I will feel for Lord Voldemort’s magical signature.”

Harry nodded his consent. 

Dumbledore raised his right hand, which was black and withered. It looked like a Halloween prop Harry had seen as a child that had freaked him out so much he’d accidentally done magic to get rid of it. (Not that he’d known that at the time was what happened, he was simply pleased it’d vanished.)

“Hmmm,” Dumbledore hummed. “Tom is correct. You will be happy to know, you are no longer a…magical Emotional Marv Detector.”

Hearing Dumbledore say it was like having an invisible weight lifted. However, as soon as it was gone, another one fell on his head.

“Does that make Tom one? I mean, if that’s where…the magic went?”

“No, Harry, I do not believe so. Another life was given to bring Tom onto this plane of existence. A sacrifice such as that wouldn’t render him…an Emotional Marv Detector.”

Harry nodded. “Er— good. Sir, where are we?”

“Oh, this charming village is Budleigh Babberton.”

Harry had no idea where that was. He assumed somewhere in England, as he was pretty sure you couldn’t use Apparition to travel out of the country.

“And we are here because?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve failed to tell you. Well, tragically, I’ve lost track over the years the times I’ve said this, but Harry, I find myself one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts.”

Harry extended his head in agreement. 

“You’re not going to ask why I’ve brought you?”

“I’m Harry Potter.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with dark houses. There was an odd chill, the same one that had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks. It persisted here as well. Though, here, it reminded Harry of dementors. He shuddered.

“What are your thoughts on our new Minister of Magic?” Dumbledore conversationally inquired.

“You’ve had a row with him,” Harry said without thinking, then slapped his hand over his mouth.

Dumbledore, of course, chuckled. “That I have.”

“Well, sir, I don’t know what I think about him. I like that he’s gotten rid of many of those who Fudge kept close to him that are…less than…well, uh, I like that he appointed Aunt Narcissa his Under Secretary. She’ll do a good job.”

“Delores was ever so sour about that appointment,” Dumbledore said mildly.

“Uh, where did Umbridge end up? The paper didn’t exactly report on where she’d gone,” Harry said.

“I believe Delores has been shuffled into Arthur Weasley’s department,” Dumbledore chuckled. “With the expansion of that department, she was most needed there. However unhappy she is there.”

Harry snorted. He doubted Umbridge could wheel much power in the Department of Muggle Artifacts. Though, Harry had read they had expanded the power of that department and they did more than simply go after magical objects that had gotten into Muggle hands. They now did a load of stuff, though Harry couldn’t remember what else had been added.

“I believe her only job at the moment is to file the paperwork,” Dumbledore offered. “Ah, here we are.”

They stood at the gate of what appeared to be a ransacked house. The door was hanging off the hinges and the front garden was uprooted. Dumbledore glanced up and down the street, but there was no one in sight. All the other houses appeared dark and sleepy. Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and raised his wand in front of him.

“Wand out and follow me, Harry,” he said quietly, opening the gate.

Harry followed as Dumbledore lit his wand and held it up high. They entered the house and carefully stepped over various smashed items. The worst of the devastation was in the sitting room, where nothing was intact and there was blood splattered all over the wall. Harry’s stomach turned over at the sight of it and he stared at the only thing in the room free of the blood: a funny looking, squashy armchair.

Harry heard Dumbledore move around the room, muttering about how horrible the devastation and ransacking was. He knew Dumbledore looked at him a few times to make sure he was still there, but Harry was using all his brain power not to throw up.

“Well, I’m sorry Harry, but I must take away your focal point,” Dumbledore said, coming into Harry’s view point near the overstuffed chair.

“What?”

“I must poke this chair,” Dumbledore said, and did just that.

The chair said, “Ouch!”

“Good evening, Horace,” Dumbledore greeted.

The chair was quickly replaced with an enormously fat, bald, old man who massaged his lower belly while squinting angrily at Dumbledore with an aggrieved and watery eye.

“There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,” he muttered, clambering to his feet.

Dumbledore smiled, holding his lit wand higher, bathing the room in wand light. The light sparkled over the man’s clothing, showing off the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The man was short, he barely reached Dumbledore’s chin.

So he was about Harry’s height.

“What gave it away?” he grunted, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for having just moments before been an armchair.

“My dear Horace,” Dumbledore began, looking amused, “if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house.”

A pudgy hand clapped over a vast forehead.

“I knew I forgot something. Wouldn’t have had the time, though. I’d only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room.”

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

“Would you like my assistance cleaning up?”

“Please.”

Harry watched as the tall, thin man and the round, short one waved their wands, sending the furniture into the correct place, feathers back into pillows, and torn books whole and back to the shelves. It was magical watching magic fix all the devastation in the room. Especially when the blood wiped itself off the walls and put itself back into tiny vials.

“Hmm. Bit dusty,” the pudgy man complained, studying the thick liquid within.

“Dragon blood?”

“Mmm, yes. My last bottle. Prices sky-high at the moment. Hopefully, might be reusable even with the bit of dust.”

He pocketed the tiny bottle and turned, gaze finally falling upon Harry.

“Oho,” he breathed, his large round eyes flying to Harry’s forehead. “ _Oho!”_

“This is Harry Potter,” Dumbledore introduce needlessly. “Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn.”

Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. “So, that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, answer’s still no, Albus.”

Dumbledore sighed dramatically as the other man huffed passed Harry.

“I supposed we can have a drink, at least? For old time’s sake?”

Slughorn hesitated on the other end of the room before he grunted his agreement. “One drink.”

Dumbledore smiled and directed Harry towards a chair that looked like the one Slughorn had recently impersonated. Harry sunk down into it, taking in the strange looking oil lamp sitting next to it that stuck out in the Muggle home. Harry frowned as he took in the house further. It was definitely a Muggle home, filled with a few choice wizarding items.

“Hmpf,” Slughorn pouted, turning away and busying himself with fixing drinks. He turned back, gaze falling once more upon Harry before he turned sharply to Dumbledore and thrust the drink into his hands. “Here.”

“Well,” Dumbledore began, sinking into sofa, “how have you been keeping, Horace?”

Slughorn thrust a drink at Harry without looking at him before he sat in the other armchair, positioning it so he didn’t have to see Harry if he didn’t wish.

“Not so well,” Slughorn said at once, his demeanor changing. “Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism, too. Can’t move like I used to. Well, that’s to be expected. Old age. Fatigue.”

“And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us on such short notice,” Dumbledore praised. “You can’t have had more than three minutes’ warning?”

“Two,” Slughorn proclaimed, irritated but proud. “Didn’t hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still, the fact remains that I’m an old man, Albus. A tired old man who’s earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts.”

Creature comforts for sure, Harry thought, looking around the stuffy, cluttered room filled with soft chairs, footstools, and expensive drinks and chocolates. Though, it struck Harry as a room of a rich, old Muggle lady. Not a wizard.

“You’re not as old as I yet,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“Maybe you ought to retire.”

“You’re quite right. I am undoubtably slower than I once was,” Dumbledore said, shaking his sleeve back to reveal his burned, blackened fingers. Harry pressed backwards into his chair while Slughorn gasped. Harry realized, besides being black, there was a large, rather clumsily made golden ring that was set with a heavy black stone which was cracked down the middle. Slughorn’s eyes lingered on the ring, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. “But, all these precautions against intruders, Horace, are they for the Death Eaters’ benefit or mine?”

“What would the Death Eaters want with a poor oldbroken buffer like me?” Slughorn asked, though he didn’t sound as if he believed that.

Dumbledore simply smiled. “I image they’d wish to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder.”

Slughorn huffed. “Not likely.”

“Have they come calling?”

“I haven’t given them the chance,” Slughorn muttered. “I’ve been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house— the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands— it’s been very pleasant, I’ll be sorry to leave. It’s quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don’t spot you bringing in the piano.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Ingenious. But, it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life.”

“Don’t you dare tell me my life would be peaceful if I were to return to Hogwarts!”

“I will not,” Dumbledore said.

“I heard what happened to Dolores Umbridge.”

“Professor Umbridge ran afoul our centaur heard. I think, Horace, you would have known better than to call a heard of angry centaurs ‘filthy half-breeds.’”

“That’s what she did, did she? Idiotic woman. Never liked her.”

Harry snorted, causing both old men to stare at him.

“Sorry. I didn’t like her much either.”

Dumbledore stood up suddenly.

“Are you leaving?” Slughorn asked, looking hopeful.

“No. I was wondering if I might use your loo.”

“Oh. Down the hall. Second door on the left.”

Dumbledore strode from the room. Slughorn got to his feet, shooting furtive looks at Harry before going to the fireplace and turning his back on Harry.

“Don’t think I don’t know why he brought you with him,” he proclaimed.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry announced, leaning his head on his hand and yawning. He threw his injured foot up onto a squashy footstool. “I’m sure that had something to do with it.”

Slughorn turned and gave Harry a strange look before saying. “You look very like your father.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“But, you’ve got your mother’s eyes,” Slughorn finished.

Harry was going to sass back, but something in Slughorn’s tone got his attention. Harry sat up straight.

“Did you know her?”

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn clarified. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House.”

Harry held in a snort, as Tom had often lamented she belonged in Slytherin not Gryffindor. Clearly, others felt she belonged elsewhere as well.

“Rather cheeky answers I’d get back too,” Slughorn added, giving Harry a small smile.

“Which House was yours?”

“I was Head of Slytherin.” Slughorn paused, waiting for Harry to react badly, but all Harry did was look interested. “You’ll be in Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Your godfather ended up in Gryffindor when his whole family had always been in Slytherin. Shame— he was a talented boy. I got this brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.”

Harry eyed the man, as he sounded like an avid collected who had been outbid at auction. Apparently lost in memories, Slughorn failed to notice Harry’s expression.

“Your mother was Muggleborn, of course. Couldn’t believe it when I found out. Thought she must be a pureblood, she was so good.”

“One of my best friends is Muggleborn and she’s the best in our year,” Harry said flatly.

Slughorn bristled. “You mustn’t think I’m prejudice! No, no, no! Haven’t I just said your mother was my all time favorite? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too—now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course— another Muggleborn, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!”

The old man bounced a little on his heels, smiling a self-satisfied smile. He indicated to an array of frames he had set up over the fire place, one of the wizarding touches in the room as the inhabitants were all moving.

“All ex-students, all signed. You’ll notice Barnabas Cuffe, former editor of the _Daily Prophet_. He was always interested to hear my take on the day’s news till he started listening to that Fudge character. Oh, and Ambrosius Flume of Honeydukes— a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back— you’ll see her if you just crane your neck— that’s Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies…people are always astonished to hear I’m on a first name basis with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I wish!”

Since he’d started bragging, Slughorn had perked up enormously.

“And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?” Harry asked, rising up out of his seat to look at the photos closer.

The smile slid off Slughorn’s face and Harry realized this was his reason for being here.

He was Harry Potter and he had the power to convince Slughorn to come to Hogwarts and go back to collecting students and getting hampers of sweets and free tickets.

“Of course not. I’ve been out of touch,” Slughorn quietly realized, looking as if he’d just registered this fact.

Harry didn’t really care, he’d found a photo of his mother. He got up on his tip toes to see it. His mother was seated on the floor, legs folded next to her as she smiled for the camera. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulder on one side. Next to her was a familiar face: Regulus Black. He smiled a very small smile, looking as if he was keeping the biggest secret of his life and only he knew it. However, Harry could guess the secret when he realized who was kneeling behind Regulus and his mother: Atlanta D. Black, also known as Addy and the girl who Regulus had loved. Harry watched as she threw her arms around Regulus and rested her head against his.

“I see you found the photo of your mother,” Slughorn said, taking it down for Harry to see closer. “Just a group of students who all had talents I nurtured. I believe that was…Ah, yes, Atlanta Black. That would have been your mother’s sixth year when Miss Black was on exchange and not yet a student.”

Harry did note that Addy Black wore very strange looking robes.

“She always wore her robes to our events,” Slughorn noted, shaking his head.

“Was she, my mum, good at anything other than Charms? I was told she was good at Charms.”

“Oh, gosh, yes,” Slughorn exclaimed. “She was a drab hand at potions. Brilliantly clever, she was. Such talent.”

Harry nodded. He knew that, thanks to Tom.

He extended the photo back to Slughorn, who took it and looked at it sadly.

He seemed to realize that most of the people in the photo were dead thanks to Voldemort.

“If you took the position at Hogwarts, you’d be safe and your friends would be able to find you once again. And, before you say it, you don’t have to be in the Order to work at Hogwarts. Most of the teachers aren’t in the Order of the Phoenix and none of them have been killed.”

“Well, that is true…”

“I reckon the staff is safer than most people while Dumbledore’s headmaster as he’s the only person Voldemort’s afraid of.”

Harry was sure Slughorn would be one of those who reacted when Voldemort’s name was spoken. Sure enough, Harry wasn’t disappointed. Slughorn gave a large shudder and a squawk.

“I suppose you are right,” Slughorn sighed. “With all the…deaths they’ve been reporting in the papers…I’m hardly a friend of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…I would be much safer being a little closer to Albus…”

“When did you first teach at Hogwarts?” Harry asked suddenly, upon finding a photo of students wearing similar uniforms to the one Tom wore.

“Oh, I started some time in the twenties,” Slughorn sighed. “That photo is from 1947. Good year, nice group of kids.”

Slughorn took the photo and began to tell Harry all about each student and where they’d ended up and how they had been helped along by him. Harry was positive Slughorn was going to be a professor at Hogwarts the coming year. Having done his job to convince the old coot, Harry tuned him out and went back to staring at the photo of his mother, Addy Black, and Regulus.


	3. Horcrux Talk with Breakfast

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

“I have super powers,” Harry Potter proclaimed one morning in mid July scaring the crap out of Draco.

Since Cornelius Fudge had been sacked and Rufus Scrimgeour had taken over, Draco spent a lot of time alone. Regulus was always off doing whatever elsewhere, Sirius was working in the Auror office (“Paperwork,” Sirius had scoffed, “It’s all I’m good for these days”), and his mother was now the Under Secretary to the Minister and almost never home.

Draco felt whiplash when he thought about how she’d managed to talk her way into that position with a little help of Madam Bones. After their talk, his mother allowed him twenty-four hours before she began to drill him on the Summer of Terror. He desperately tried to remember all those who died, but in all honesty, he couldn’t remember. So, since he couldn’t remember, Narcissa simply gathered up those in power who were publicly against Voldemort and had them put in more secure locations. Madam Bones was in one of these houses, due to her position in the Ministry and her help to free Sirius. Draco, while he couldn’t be positive, felt like it was highly likely Madam Bones had died the first time around. Even though the dementors still fled to Voldemort’s side and were breeding all over, making the entire country gloomy and cold, the deaths of wizards were down.

Muggles weren’t as lucky. The bridge was still was crushed by giants and Narcissa cursed each morning when she read the various Muggle newspapers, as she’d taught herself to recognize Muggle murders verse wizarding murders of Muggles. As the summer wore on, Draco saw her less and less as she spent more time at the office.

“I have super powers!” Harry repeated, raising his arms up at a forty-five degree angle and running into the dining room making whooshing noises.

Draco watched him with a look of confusion till the Boy-Who-Thought-He-Was-a-Superhero sat down, hopefully to explain his new found power.

“Dumbledore picked me up to convince Slughorn to return to collect students,” Harry reported, tucking into the breakfast that appeared on his plate. “Please tell me Slughorn is a passable teacher.”

“He is,” Draco allowed. “More so if you’re a favorite. I was not one. I did poorly, but likely due to the fact I didn’t do my homework or put any effort into classes. Seventh year, Slughorn was terrified of any of the Death Eater kids, so I got good marks I did not deserve.”

Harry hummed. “Sounds about right.”

“Tom would be best to ask about his teaching style,” Draco offered, picking up his coffee cup. “He had him for four years, then sat through many of his classes when he was in the 1970s.”

“Oh, yeah! I could also ask Regulus or Sirius. Or even your mum. Where is she?”

“Work.”

Harry snickered at Draco’s expression.

“It is a new experience for me,” Draco insisted, hiding behind his coffee cup.

“That’s fine. It is for me as well,” Harry admitted, grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice. “So, what are our big plans for summer?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve been house bound, mostly.”

“You could have gone to see Tom,” Harry pointed out.

Draco gave Harry a look and ignored him. “Order members come and go downstairs, but it’s kind of frowned upon for a sixteen-year-old wizard to hang out in the kitchen eavesdropping.”

Harry smirked. “What are they up to?”

“Trying to gather strength,” Draco replied, lifting his chin. “Doing a good job at it, too. Since Sirius went back to the Auror office, he’s rather high ranking even if he’s not actually doing anything other than paperwork. He’s still Sirius Black and charming. Mother, as you might have guessed, is proficient at getting people to join the Order. I’m sure by the end of the school year, anyone who is not sympathetic to Voldemort will be in the Order thanks to Mother.”

Harry chuckled quietly. “Did the Order not have many members last time?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve no clue. I don't believe so, as when they all went to ground after Voldemort took control of the Ministry, there wasn’t many of them. Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, the Weasley family save Big Head Boy, Moody…and a few others I can’t remember at the moment.”

“Why wasn’t Percy on the list?”

“Wasn’t an Order Member,” Draco answered. “And he kept himself where he’d been and served the Puppet Minister. It was known he’d had a row with his father and left home, so Voldemort didn’t bother with him. He was a pureblood and was happily toeing the line of Magic is Might.”

Harry mouthed the words and shook his head. “That is not happening this time.”

“No. I’ve got a feeling…” Draco trailed off, eyeing Boy Wonder.

“It’s not bunnies, is it?”

Draco gave Harry a strange look and shook his head, “No. I have a feeling we’re going to be blindsided this year with things.”

“Why?”

“Because I was so focused on what I was doing, I don’t know what happened passed that,” Draco admitted. “It was hard to think of what might be fixed other than Dumbledore’s death and that Nott likely has the job I did.”

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore’s hand is black, withered, and useless.”

Draco thoughtfully studied Harry. “Could you draw it?”

“Give me a black marker and I’ll just color my hand and there you go.”

“No, I mean, if it is withered, how does it exactly look.”

“Oh. Like it’s dead,” Harry filled in. “There was a Halloween prop I saw once as a kid that looked similar.”

Draco nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“He also gave me the ugly ring he was wearing and said I ought to return it to the rightful owner.”

Harry fished the ring out of his pocket and set it in front of Draco. Draco picked up the clumsy made ring and studied it. It was very old, judging by the craftsmanship. It had also been worn often, if the scratches on it were anything to go by. The curious thing about it was the smooth, cracked stone. It had some sort of coat of arms on it, but not one that Draco knew.

“Who is the rightful owner?” Draco asked, seeing if there were any further markers on the ring.

“Tom,” said a new voice from behind Draco. Draco turned around to see a very pale Regulus Black standing in the doorway, dressed in dark Muggle clothing, his dark hair hidden under a dark cap. “Where did you get that?”

“Dumbledore gave it to me last night,” Harry said, watching Regulus carefully. “Why do you look as if you’ve seen a dead person?”

“There was a very dark curse on that ring,” Regulus quietly said. “Dumbledore was sure he could…”

“He didn’t,” Draco realized, setting the ring down and pushing back from the table. “He didn’t.”

“It’s broken now,” Regulus said, looking at the ring. “He’d never have given it to Harry if there was still a curse on it.”

“Why would he put it on, though, if he already knew it was cursed?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know,” Regulus whispered.

“It was a horcrux,” Harry proclaimed, making the elder two boys look at him. “You’re horcrux hunting. That’s what you’ve been doing since you woke up.”

Regulus nodded. “Correct. I found this outside the village where the Riddle graves are located. Dumbledore believes it was the homestead of the Gaunt family.”

“He hid a horcrux in his mother’s home?” Draco asked. “Wouldn’t that be obvious?”

Regulus snorted. “No. It wasn’t so much a home as a run down shack filled with dark magic booby traps. It took me months to work my way through all of them once Dumbledore and I found the right spot.”

“But why would he think no one would think to look there?”

“He’s arrogant,” Regulus reminded him. “And he assumes no one remembers Tom Riddle.”

“Dumbledore does,” Harry pointed out.

“But, he’s Dumbledore. And why would Dumbledore know about horcurxes or go investigating Tom Riddle’s family tree?”

“Because he’s a nosy old coot,” Draco mildly suggested.

Regulus snorted once again, finally sitting down.

“So, what is that coat of arms? The Gaunt family coat of arms?”

“No,” Regulus said. “I’ve no idea what it is, to be honest. Dumbledore didn’t volunteer anything when I left it with him. I looked up the Gaunt family and any other family they were related to and can’t find anything.”

“Would Tom know? He said he did a lot of research during his flat bound years,” Harry said, reaching for the ring.

“Maybe,” Regulus shrugged.

Harry stared at the ring in his hand. “This really was a horcrux?”

Regulus nodded.

“What others have you found?”

Regulus shifted uneasily. “Besides the ring? Just the cup from Bellatrix’s vault.”

“How’d you get it? Potter and Friends broke into Gringotts with the aid of a rouge goblin,” Draco offered. “Or so the rumor went. They did escape the manor after capture with a goblin. I was back at school when they did the actual breaking in.”

Regulus and Harry both stared at Draco as he shuddered wondering what had happened at the manor when Moldy got wind of what Potter and Friends had done.

“Did I forget to mention that over Easter Break, Potter took up residence in the Malfoy wine cellar-slash-dungeon?” Draco mildly asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, staring. “Why was he there?”

“He was wanted by the Ministry, but more so by Voldemort, so he was brought to Malfoy Manor where Voldemort…lived,” Draco offered.

Regulus cleared his throat. “Yes, well, there will be no breaking into Gringotts this time. Before Bellatrix escaped, your mother retrieved the cup. She forged Bellatrix’s signature and had the cup and a few other trinkets she claimed belonged to the Black’s transferred into the vault belonging formerly to my father.”

“The Goblins didn’t catch on?” Draco asked, feeling aghast.

“No. Especially when the duplication charm didn’t go off when they took the items,” Regulus remarked, smirking. “They didn’t realize I had Tom make me something that would halt it till the door closed.”

“You didn’t,” Draco said, eyes large.

“Duplication charm?” Harry asked.

“Intruders or thief set it off, making the items they touch multiply at an alarming rate, usually bearing them alive.”

Harry shuddered.

“Tom is an evil genius,” Regulus drawled, smirking over at Harry. 

“So, the crown, the diary, the locket, and the cup have been destroyed,” Draco recapped, ticking the items off on his fingers.

“Who’d the cup belong to?”Harry asked.

“Hufflepuff,” Regulus answered. “And you’ve forgotten Harry.”

“Yes. I’ve been destroyed as well,” Harry proclaimed, pumping his arms in the air. “So, five down. Two to go.”

“Only three. You’re forgetting the bit of soul within Voldemort,” Regulus said. “That’s the last bit.”

Harry scowled.

“Would he have counted that bit?” Draco inquired. “I know he didn’t count Harry.”

“I think he would see his body as an object of greatness,” Regulus said. “He is the last blood relative of Salazar Slytherin, as well as other great wizarding families through his connection to the Slytherins. And while he wouldn’t count Harry, he might have known something…”

“He did,” Harry said. “He simply thought he’d marked me as his own, kinda like Atl…Atlanta.”

“So, he didn’t realize the connection was due to you being an accidental horcrux?” Regulus inquired.

Harry shook his head.

“Then, the only horcrux he’d make after he’d returned would be the one he failed to make the night he went to kill Harry,” Draco surmised.

“There’s the diary, the locket, the ring, the cup, the diary, and myself, plus one unknown object and himself for eight total objects,” Harry recapped.

“Correct,” Regulus agreed. “He didn’t realize he’d made an extra.”

They all shuddered.

“So, we’ve still got to find the one he did make after he’d returned,” Draco pointed out. “Do you have any leads?”

Regulus shook his head. “We’ve already searched any childhood ties, or ties to the powerful wizarding families he’d have, so we’re at a loss on where the next one is located. Though, Dumbledore believes the snake he hangs out with might be a horcrux.”

“He’d make a snake one? I thought living—“

“They don’t,” Harry said, “but the snake he’d see as a tie to Slytherin and he was likely desperate and lost whatever he was going to use when he failed to kill me.”

“He might not have lost it,” Regulus said, leaning forward. “It could be that when Crouch Junior went to get Moldy’s wand, he got the object he wanted to turn into the horcrux. There was a Muggle in the village the cemetery he used for his return who turned up bearing a number seven cut into his forehead two years ago.”

Harry’s eyes went large.

“Hence why Dumbledore believes the snake might be his so called last one. I think Crouch Junior got whatever he wanted out of the ruins of the Potter’s cottage.”

“So, how the heck are we to kill his snake?” Harry asked, looking at Regulus with wide eyes before sweeping his gaze to Draco. “It’s not like he lets it wander around.”

Regulus shrugged. “That is no worry for now. In the final battle, he’ll bring the snake to show his power and threatened people with letting it eat them. We’ll kill it. And I honestly don’t think the snake is a horcrux. I think he got whatever he wanted to use before. It would still have been there, since no one touched the house.”

“It’s still there?” Harry wondered out loud.

“Yes. Ruins charmed to look like just an empty house to a Muggle. After all this is over, I am sure we can take you there if you wish to go. It was deemed not safe until Voldemort was good and gone.”

Harry didn’t look as if he was sure what to do with that information.

“What we should be worrying about is what the object he decided to use, since we’re out of Founder’s objects, and where he’d put it.”

The two boys nodded.

“Just food for thought.”

Regulus reached out, grabbed and apple. He tossed it a few times before he left the room.

“Well, that was cheery breakfast conversation,” Harry muttered.

“Still think you’ve got super powers?” Draco teased.

Harry threw a scone at him.


	4. Sign of the Times

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken out of _Halfblood Prince._**

* * *

Later that morning, Draco and Harry were lounging in the library when Tom burst in clutching several letters in his hand and a giddy expression. Harry leapt to his feet, while Draco rolled over onto his side in order to get up at some point.

“OWL results,” Tom proclaimed, just managing not to bounce on his heels. “Mine showed up a few minutes ago and I came over to see if yours had arrived. The owls were sitting on the table.”

“Why didn’t they find us?” Harry inquired.

“They’re not allowed anywhere in the house other than the dining area unless they are family birds,” Draco said, getting to his feet. He took the envelope addressed to him and slowly read the parchment inside.

**ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS**

**_Passing Grades_ **

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

**_Fail Grades_ **

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

**_Draco Lucius Malfoy has achieved:_ **

Astronomy - O

Ancient Runes - E

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Arithmancy - E

Herbology - O

History of Magic - D

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

 

Draco eye balled all the Os on his parchment before he looked up to find both Harry and Tom staring at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t get all Os,” Harry pleaded.

“No. I got two Es and a D,” Draco reported.

“A D! In what?” Harry asked, snatching the parchment from Draco before he could stop him. “Oh, History of Magic. I got the same. I did collapse halfway through, what was your excuse?”

“I got bored,” Draco replied. “I did better this time. Last time I got a T.”

Tom snorted.

Draco turned to the tall boy and eyed him. “You managed to take the OWLs?”

“Yes. I did,” Tom said.

“He got all ‘Outstandings,’” Harry reported, looking both proud and grumpy.

“How on Earth did you managed that?” Draco joked.

“I went to school twice,” Tom drawled, stuffing his parchment with his test results in his pocket. “I also had an unfair advantage seeing as I’m technically an adult with a real job who has been out working and doing most of the stuff on the practicals since before you were born.”

“Did you tell them that?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, what subjects are you going to take next year?” Harry asked. “You’ve got a career.”

“Whatever you choose,” Tom said, looking at Harry as if he were mental for asking.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’m off to write Hermione. I wonder if she got ten ‘Outstandings?’” Draco only half joked.

He left Tom and Harry in the library and headed to where the family owl was housed. He hadn’t seen Hedwig since they’d gotten out of school, but she was with his own owl sleeping peacefully. After Draco woke his owl up, he tied his short note of inquiry to the ankle and sent him off. He thought he might have written Hermione a longer missive, but became pen choked when he tried to think of what to say, so he kept it straight and to the point. It was only after Ares was gone did he remember the magical parchment, which would have been faster. Figuring it wasn’t that pressing, Draco headed back downstairs to make sure Tom and Harry hadn’t blown anything up or gotten into trouble. Who knew what they’d get up to now that Tom was solid?

* * *

Draco, Harry, and Tom spent the next few weeks within the confines of Grimmauld Place. Draco began to get used to Tom being, well, real. The trio played Quidditch together, two against one, as Tom was dreadful at Quidditch. He always blamed the broom was much too different from what he was used to, but after the third week of this excuse, it was clear Tom wasn’t the flyer Draco and Harry were.

It would have been a happy and peaceful holiday if the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, and deaths weren’t appearing daily in the _Prophet_. Sometimes, Sirius and Narcissa brought news home before it reached the papers, though it was Remus Lupin who brought the news that Igor Karkaroff had been found during Harry’s sixteenth birthday celebration.

“He lasted a year,” Lupin mused grimly. “I’m surprised. Most don’t last very long after deserting the Death Eaters.”

“I barely made it an hour,” Regulus badly joked.

Sirius threw a piece of birthday cake at him, nailing Regulus in the face.

“Sirius!” both Lupin and Narcissa scolded in the same tone of voice. Funnily, neither noticed. Harry snorted into his plate of cake, while Tom worked hard not to laugh.

“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue?” Regulus asked, wiping frosting off his face and dropping it onto his plate. “The man who ran the—“

“The ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry asked.

Regulus nodded, clearing his face of frosting and cake bits. Draco wasn’t sure why he didn’t just point his wand at his face and clean himself up, but maybe he liked being covered in sugar?

“Dragged off by the look of his place. Can’t imagine what they wanted with him,” Sirius muttered, cutting himself a new piece of cake. “He was a good man, kept his nose clean.”

“That was likely the problem,” Regulus said.

“Enough.”

The men all stared at Narcissa. “While I do not forbid current event talk from meals, this is Harry’s birthday celebration. Cease with the current events of the day for at least an hour. Regulus, go clean yourself up properly.”

“I’ll do it,” Draco offered and did the silent cleaning charm before remembering he was only sixteen and he shouldn’t be doing magic outside of school let alone non-verbally.

Instead of yelling at him, Narcissa deeply sighed. Sirius snickered. Draco realized that everyone in the room knew he was older than sixteen.

“I will get you later,” Regulus warned, pointing at his brother.

And get him he did. Sirius, whose hair was his pride and joy, woke up the next morning bald.

“REGULUS!” he screamed, tearing out of his room at the ungodly hour of six. The following ten minutes were filled with curses, hexes, and a lot of high pitched screaming.

Since he was awake, Draco headed down to the breakfast room to eat. Narcissa was seated at the table, frowning at a pile of folders before her, ignoring her plate of food and unthinkingly stirring her tea with her wand.

“Good morning, Mother,” Draco greeted, taking his seat.

“Good morning, darling,” his mother distractingly greeted. She jerked, sat up straight, and looked upset. “I am sorry, darling. I’ve been so preoccupied since I began working.”

“Mother, it is fine. You’re doing good work.”

“Not good enough. Ollivander was still taken,” she grumped, indicating to the news story about the shop being empty. “They can’t tell he was simply kidnapped or left voluntarily.” She pressed her lips together. “What does Voldemort want with Ollivander? He’s a wand maker and Voldemort already has a wand.”

“One that acted strange when dueling with Harry,” Draco remembered. “And…he asked for Father’s wand before…before he tried to get Potter before the start of seventh year. He…Mother!”

Narcissa sat back, staring at Draco with a combination of worry and hope.

“We’ve forgotten. We were there when Ollivander sold Harry his wand! Remember? They share the same wand core!”

“Oh,” Narcissa gasped, putting her hand over her mouth and sitting back hard in her chair. Her wand sent tea all over the table cloth as it clattered to the ground. “Why did I see this before? We knew he’d be taken. Voldemort would want to know why…and the only expert….oh, dear.”

Without another word, Narcissa hurried from the room, knocking over a still bald Sirius on her way out.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed, resting on his elbows on the floor. “Where’s she going in such a hurry?”

“She’s realized why Ollivander was taken,” Draco said. “I never knew…I was never present when he questioned the man and no one spoke of why he was prisoner.”

“Figures. So why—oh. The duel in the cemetery,” Sirius realized, going to push his hands through his hair only to find himself bald. He made an annoyed noise.

“How’d he do it?” Draco casually asked.

“Potion in my shampoo,” Sirius grumped. “I’ll have to wait for it to wear off. Nothing I can do.”

Draco snorted into his napkin while Sirius glared at him. 

Later that day, after all the adults had gone off to do work, the school letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry’s included a letter stating he’d been made Quidditch Captain. 

“I can use the prefect’s bathroom!” was the first thing Harry exclaimed upon seeing the note. “Tom! I can use the prefects bathroom!”

Harry took off running towards Tom, who’d walked into the sitting room accompanied by Lupin.

“Very nice, Harry,” Lupin said while Harry jumped up and down in front of Tom, who was trying to get a hold of Harry’s patch he was waving around. One would think with the good five inches Tom had on Harry (who had in fact grown a little and was at least as tall as Hermione once again) he’d be able to catch Harry.

“Thanks!”

“I’ve come to take you lot to Diagon Alley if you want to go now,” Lupin quietly said. “Nymphadora said she’d meet us there on her lunch break.”

Harry stopped jumping. “I need a security details, don’t I?”

Lupin smiled and nodded. “Yes. Sorry.”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got super powers.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ll protect you all!”

Tom pinched the space between his eyes while Lupin looked bemused as Harry stuck his arms out and made whooshing noises as he ran around the room again.

Since Hermione was summering in Sweden and would be unable to go with them to Diagon Alley till the day before term begun, the boys all went that afternoon with Lupin. They went via floo and met Tonks at the Leakey Cauldron, which was emptier than usual for lunchtime. There were four people total in the usually crowded bar.

“It’s like this everywhere,” Tonk quietly said as they made their way back to the brick wall. “It’s actually crowded in there today. Usually Tom’s the only soul in there.”

The Tom with them made a noise through his nose, then gasped at the sight of the street when the entry way opened.

“What happened?” Tom breathed. “We were just here s few weeks ago…”

Tom trailed off, looking as if he might cry. Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Been like this since Ollivander vanished, then others began getting knocked off,” Tonks explained, glowering.

Draco steeled himself and entered the wizarding shopping district. Where it once was colorful and glittering, Diagon Alley was now dim and dreary. The only color came from the somber purple Ministry posters with security advice (totally useless for the most part). The only other things hung were wanted posters for various Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lastrange the most prominent after Lord Voldemort. Many of the shops were boarded up, while there were numerous shabby stalls selling junk supposed aimed at keeping away dark things.

“Where would you like to begin, boys?” Lupin asked, still gripping Tom’s shoulder as they passed a stall selling amulets to ward off werewolves.

“I’ve done most of the boring shopping already,” Tom proclaimed. “We ought to start at Flourish and Blotts.”

“I need new robes,” Harry volunteered. “I grew.”

“I’ll take Harry to get new robes, you take Tom to get the books,” Tonks suggested.

“And what will I do? Gather dust?” Draco drawled, eyeing his cousin, who colored for some reason and looked anywhere but at the people she was with.

“You don’t want to go to the bookstore with Tom and Lupin,” Harry said, grabbing Draco’s arm. “I’ll be quick and then we can go see the twin’s shop. And you can ask them about helping out maybe over Christmas break since you never got around to it this summer.”

“I did ask them about this summer, but they said they were really busy and maybe next summer wouldn’t be so busy and they’d know what to do with an intern,” Draco ground out. He’d had to look up the word _intern_ when he’d read it in their letter. “They answered my questions.”

“I’d still like to see the shop,” Harry said, tugging on Draco’s arm.

“We’ll meet you at the twins shop,” Lupin decided, guiding Tom towards the bookstore.

Harry all but danced down the street to the robe shop. Draco had not actually set foot in the robe shop since that first time being fitted for robes. He grew so fast and so often, his mother had been getting robes in advance and simply sending them to him as he grew out of the old ones. The three entered the shop to find they weren’t the only patrons. Nott was standing on the podium, being fitted with dark green robes. He wasn’t speaking, nor did he notice what was happening around him. He was pale and sickly, not at all like the bloated, self important Draco Malfoy who had once stood in his place arguing with his mother about being able to shop alone.

Nott was alone.

He had no one.

“I’ll be with you lot in a moment,” Madam Malkin called. She went back to pinning the robe then told Nott to carefully remove it and she’d finish it by the end of the day. “I’ll send it to you, yes?”

Nott nodded, still having not noticed who was in the shop with him. He paid, then turned their direction. He stared blankly at Draco for a long beat before he sneered and brushed passed them, banging out the door.

“Poor lad,” Madam Malkin sighed. “Now, who’s up and what do you need?”

Harry announced he needed new robes (finally) and got up onto the podium. Draco wandered around the shop looking at the pre-made robes, while Tonks stayed near Harry and kept up mindless banter with Madam Malkin. It seemed no time at all before they were back on the streets and heading off towards more exciting shopping.

The first time around, Draco had been too intent on his goal to even think about entering the Weasley Twin’s shop. Sure, he’d seen the bright shop. It was impossible not to, between the glittering display windows and the huge purple poster that had flashing yellow letters proclaiming:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Harry laughed out loud at the poster, while Tonks shook her head.

“Mrs Weasley is worried they’ll be murdered in their beds for that,” Tonks chuckled as she ushered the two teenagers into the shop.

Walking into the shop was like entering a madhouse packed to compacity. Draco was unable to get anywhere near the shelves. His height helped him to be able to see what was being offered, most of the things Draco was familiar with. However, many of the shelves were almost empty. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest turning into a rubber chicken, the most expensive beating the unwary user over the head. There were jars of quills which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer. As a space cleared in front of a counter, Harry pushed his way over where there were a gaggle of ten-year-old girls watching a tiny wooden man slowly ascend the steps of a real set of gallows. Draco snorted as he watched the girls begin to play a game of Hangman with the reusable hangman.

“Wow. ‘Patented Daydream Charms…’” Harry read off something he’d managed to get his hands on. He flipped the box over and began to read the information on the back. His eyes went large and he looked up at Draco. “Is this what you want to do? It’s bloody amazing.”

Draco took the box, reading what the charm did. It in fact, was rather amazing the twins had developed a charm that allowed the user to vividly daydream for thirty minutes.

“Oh, Harry, you knew we were brilliant!” a twin said, appearing out of nowhere. Draco startled at the sight of the redhead wearing badly clashing magenta robes.

What was with Wealseys and wearing clashing colors?

“How are you, Harry?”

They shook hands.

“Pretty good,” Harry replied. “Though, not as good as you and George. This place is hopping.”

“That it is,” Fred agreed. “Come on you two, I’ll give you a tour.”

Fred waded his way through the crowds easily, taking them to a back corner of the shop.

“Muggle magic tricks!” Fred proclaimed, pointing out the rather plain, full shelves. “For freaks like my dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It’s not a big earner, but we do a fairy steady business. They’re great novelties.”

Draco reached out and picked up a rubber circle and stared at it blankly.

“What is this?”

“Whoopee cushion,” answered a voice from behind.

Draco whirled around to find Lupin behind them, smiling fondly at the rubber circle.

“Confused the hell out of Sirius Black once,” Lupin went on happily. “I’ve lost Tom, I thought he’d be with you.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Who is Tom?” Fred asked as George walked up.

“Afternoon, Professor Lupin,” George greeted, then turned to Fred. “Giving Harry the tour? Come through the back, Harry, that’s where we’re making the real money— pocket anything, you, and you’ll pay more than Galleons!”

A small boy hastily whipped his hand out of the tub labeled EDIBLE DARK MARKS—THEY’LL MAKE ANYONE SICK!

George whisked Harry off, leaving Lupin and Draco with Fred.

“What do you make the most money on?”

“Shield stuff,” Fred answered.

“I heard you sold a boat load of Shield Hats to the Ministry,” Lupin idly said, picking up a stack of playing cards that were all connected with string. “You’ve expanded into cloaks, gloves, and other products, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Fred answered. “We’ve got other things in the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin, would you like to take a look? We could use your help.”

Lupin looked confused, but no one could say no to a determined Weasley Twin, mostly because you weren’t given a chance to.

“Great,” Fred said, clapping Lupin on the back. “I’ll show you to the back. Come on.”

After exchanging looks, the pair followed Fred where they joined Harry and George. Harry was desperately trying to hand back the items George kept pushing into his hands.

“George, I can’t just take these,” Harry said.

“Nonsense,” Fred called out. Harry jumped. “You don’t pay here.”

Harry turned beet red.

“It makes sense,” Lupin said casually, picking up a Decoy Detonator, eyeing it with interest. “You did give them their startup loan.”

Harry looked at Lupin wide-eyed as he set the Decoy Detonator down and idly turned towards Harry wearing a serene smile.

“You didn’t wonder why Narcissa or Sirius never asked where your winnings went? I’m sure your banker did.”

Harry mouthed the word _banker_ and stared at Draco.

“Harry, you’re a member of an old family, plus the potential heir to the Black fortune. Of course you’ve got a banker,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

“But…but…but…”

“It was in the paper you’d won the gold,” Lupin went on, studying the Instant Darkness Powder. Draco remembered ordering that through the mail order. “I’m sure the banker inquired where it had gone when a deposit wasn’t made.”

Harry looked panicked.

Lupin straightened and took pity on the boy.

“Sirius approved when he figured it out,” Lupin assured Harry. “How could he not? This is his wonderland.”

Lupin glanced over his shoulder towards the main area and chuckled a little sadly. He turned back to the group of teenagers.

“How’d he guess?” Fred (or George. They’d moved and now Draco had no clue which was which) asked.

“Harry told him about all the leaps and bounds you were making in your joke shop,” Lupin said as if it were simple to figure out based on that. “And then when you took the lease on this place, Narcissa assumed Harry had given you your startup loan.”

“Am I in trouble?” Harry asked.

“Heavens, no. One, I am not your guardian; two, it was your gold to do with as you pleased; and three, Sirius approved greatly.”

“And Mother did?” Draco asked doubtfully.

Lupin shrugged as a young witch in staff robes entered the back area and said, “There’s a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley.”

Harry shook his head, as did Draco at the twins being addressed as “Mr Weasley.”

“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” Left Twin said, exiting with the witch. He threw over his shoulder, “Help yourself to anything, Harry! No charge.”

“I can’t do that!” Harry shouted. “I’ve got money!”

“You don’t pay here,” Remaining Twin insisted, waving away Harry’s attempt at giving him money for whatever he was holding.

“But…”

“No. You gave us the startup loan and we didn’t even think what it meant to your family, not that any of you lot are hurting,” Remaining Twin remarked and Lupin snorted, “but, you did and we haven’t forgotten. We’d not be here if it weren’t for you, so take whatever you like just remember to tell everyone where you got it.”

Remaining Twin made to move out of the room, but turned and said to Draco, “But, you gotta pay.”

“I’ve no problem with that.”

“Mostly because I know you still can’t tell us apart,” the twin said, winking before he vanished through the curtain to help with customers.

Lupin chuckled, studying the items in the back room throughly while Harry stuffed a bag of gold in the spot where he’d taken a few boxes of Decoy Detonators.

“I’m not sure they’ll be needing my help with anything in this area,” Lupin remarked as he finished his circle of the room.

“They could use mine, but this kind of stuff is below me,” Tom proclaimed joining them. “There are many people here.”

The three others in the room stared at Tom blankly as he shifted uncomfortably before them. Lupin was the first to realize the meaning behind Tom’s statement.

“Yes, Tom. You’re correct. Harry, Draco, have you seen your fill?”

“No. I haven’t seen—oh, okay,” Harry said.

“No. Stay, Harry. I was just going to tell you I’ll be outside,” Tom said.

“Alone?” Harry asked.

“No. Tonk is currently standing outside since Remus entered,” Tom said, nodding at Lupin before sweeping through the curtain.

“It didn’t occur to me the crowd would bother him,” Harry quietly said as they exited the back room.

“Yes, well, he did spent the past twenty years on his own in a flat and before that he didn’t exactly get out much,” Draco remarked.

Lupin hummed his agreement.

Harry and Draco checked out the rest of the store, from the WonderWitch products to the little Pygmy Puffs. Draco wound up buying a few things he thought might be helpful during the upcoming school year. He handed over his gold and the pair exited the shop with Lupin to find Tom and Tonks in deep conversation about Nott.

“What was Nott doing?” Harry asked.

“Acting strange,” Tonks replied. “I know why he’s alone, but he was skirting around strangely as if he didn’t want anyone to see him.”

“It kind of made sure we saw him,” Tom said flatly. “He’s going to Borgin and Burkes, is he not?”

“Likely.”

Tonks frowned.

“What’s there he’d want?” Lupin inquired mildly.

“A wide array of things,” Draco answered. “Well, at least there were the last time I glanced in the window as a boy.”

Tonks frowned deeply, looking over at Lupin.

“If you must, but I fear you’ll find nothing,” Lupin said.

Tonks huffed, then charged off toward Knockturn Alley. Fifteen minutes later she appeared dragging Nott by the ear and scolding him while he insisted he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“While I cannot stop that man from running his store, the amount of illegal things in there is shocking and no place for an underaged wizard!”

“I am not underaged!”

“Yeah, you are,” Tonks said. “And in these times, you shouldn’t be down there. Are you looking for trouble?”

Nott straightened out his robes and glared at Tonks.

Draco waited for him to say something rude, something like he’d have said in the same situation, but Nott huffed and stalked off. Tonks frowned deeply at his retreating back before rejoining the group.

“What was he doing?” Harry asked.

“Bartering. I don’t know for what, as they stopped when I walked in, but without an escort, someone his age isn’t allowed down there. Obscure law,” Tonks explained at the three blank looks she was getting. “Well, let’s go. I’ve got to get back to work.”


	5. Gravity Pulls You and I

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

There were things living beings did Tom Riddle had forgotten about in the past nineteen years. In the last few months since he’d become a real boy, these things reinstated themselves. He had to use the toilet, his hair grew abnormally fast and required cutting every two weeks, he had to trim his fingernails and toenails regularly, and he no longer had the ability to walk through people or walls.

Tom would never admit he had gotten used to being able to walk through things, most of all Sirius Black when he was being annoying. Since becoming solid he had rammed into a wall, several tables, and the bathtub. (As well as Sirius, who laughed and accused him of trying to cop a feel.) 

However, most nettlesome out of everything was Tom was always hungry.

Hunger was something intimately familiar to Tom. There was never enough to eat at the orphanage, especially with the start of the war. Yet, after nineteen years of NOT being hungry, Tom had forgotten how annoying it was to have to stop what he was doing to eat. Or to be awaken in the middle of the night to a rumbling stomach and full bladder.

Okay, maybe the whole having to use a loo several times a day was more irksome than hunger. He technically could go days without eating. He could not go days without the loo.

Tom pushed himself out of bed carefully as to not wake up his bedmate. Tom stood and stared at the sleeping boy. When Tom had been a Not Ghost, the pair often shared a bed. Tom always told himself it was because Harry was solid to Tom and it was nice to have something solid around whilst he slept. Harry was also a boy and it was more comfortable than sharing with a girl. (Tom would know, he’d shared a bed with Atlanta D. Black for years before they finally got their own flat. While it had gotten past awkward, it was still weird to Tom. For reasons.) He thought now that he was solid, the bed sharing would stop, but Harry still snuck into Park Quad in the dead of night and crawled into Tom’s bed.

Not that they did a lot of sleeping since they both had nightmares. They’d lie awake together not talking about the nightmares, yet knowing exactly what had woken them both. 

Tom had taken her death hard—harder than he had imagined he ever would as he’d not been all that close to her as others he’d lost. Harry buried his grief deep within himself— just as he had with Cedric. At the time, Tom had found nothing all that wrong with Harry’s dealing, yet now he knew better. While Tom still was sad Atlanta was gone, the last two months he’d come to terms with her passing. He’d take her back alive in a heartbeat, but he’d accepted and mourned her. It didn’t hurt as much any longer.

Harry didn’t mourn. He was unable to say Atlanta’s name without stumbling. He looked at Tom sometimes as if at any moment he’d vanish into nothing. Lupin, upon finding Harry in Tom’s bed one morning shortly after Harry had arrived from his Muggle relatives, had offered to take him to see the tree Atlanta Lupin now was, but Harry had shook his head and ran off.

Tonight, oddly, they’d both remained peacefully asleep without nightmares. Tom studied Harry’s twitching eyelids for a beat before he slunk out of the room and headed for the kitchen.

Irksome stomach.

Tom entered the kitchen and quietly puttered around, fixing himself a sandwich. He was buttering the bread when the front door opened.

Tom flipped the knife in his hand and held it up over his shoulder, staring at the dimly lit entrance hall.

“Tom?” called out a voice he’d not heard in two decades. “Tom? I think I need help.”

Tom lowered the knife, but kept it in his hand as he ran into the entrance hall. He stood stupidly in the doorway and stared at the person stumbling across the tile floor towards the table that sat in the middle of the room. She was tall, but not too tall, had short, reddish brown hair that was soaking wet. She wore dark clothes that hugged her frame and she was hunched over, holding her right side, dripping water and blood onto the floor. Tom could see the faint shimmer of the glamours that hid her true face from the world.

“Addy?” Tom whispered, fearing his mind was going.

She turned towards him and it felt like someone suckered punched him.

“There you are,” she wheezed, ramming into the table, feet sliding a little on the black and white tile. “I…I kinda…”

Tom rushed towards her as she crumpled to the ground, somehow not smacking her head on the table. Tom slid on his knees towards her, throwing the knife to the side, and let his hands hover over her collapsed form. For a moment, Tom panicked, having flashbacks to when Atlanta Lupin had been stabbed as the blood pooled on the floor.

“Just a scratched. A cursed one,” Addy offered weakly, blood bubbling out of her mouth. She let out a hacking couch, sending more blood all over the floor. “Can you get Sirius?”

“Sirius?”

“Yeah. He’s solid and can…wait…are you solid? What—happened…t-t-t-to your hair?” Addy asked dazedly before she passed out.

“LUPIN!” Tom shouted as loud as possible.

Tom unzipped the shredded track jacket and ripped her t-shirt in two, finding a long, thin, blood covered cut that went from under her ribs clear across her midsection.

Not a knife wound, but one made by a wand and only bleeding so much due to the curse. What the hell did you do for cursed wounds?

“LUPIN!”

There was a crash at the back of the flat and clatter of slippered feet before Lupin appeared. He took one look at who was on the floor with Tom before going completely pale. For a moment Tom worried Lupin was going to pass out, but instead he steeled himself and hurried forward.

“What happened?”

“No clue. She walked in the front door and collapsed. She did say it was just a scratch and it was cursed.”

“Darkly,” Lupin muttered, waving his wand over the bleeding wound. “Good thing you didn’t touch it. We won’t be able to stanch the blood flow. We’ll need Severus.”

“Snape?”

“And Poppy. I believe the flat is still connected to the Hospital Wing. Can you help me pick her up? Don’t jostle her too much. And don’t you dare touch the wound.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Tom snapped, going to hoist Addy up from under her arms.

“What are you two doing? Where’d all that blood come from?”

Lupin and Tom turned as they picked Addy up to find a sleep rumbled Harry Potter staring at them as if they were playing a really cruel trick on him.

“He can’t see her,” Lupin whispered. “The spell is active.”

“Then, Harry won’t be able to get home. Grimmauld Place’s Floo connection will have been terminated,” Tom grasped. “Anything you or Sirius did as Secret Keepers will have been undone.”

“Because Addy’s Secret Keeper,” Lupin remembered, but shook his head in tiny movements. “We need to go. We’ll worry about this later. Harry, remain here. Tom will explain when he returns.”

“Uh, okay.”

Together, Lupin and Tom made it to the fireplace. Harry followed behind them and threw the Floo powder. Tom watched Harry vanished in a swirl of green flames.

* * *

Several hours later, Tom stumbled out of the fireplace and collapsed on the ground, not caring about the soot he was getting all over the stupid expensive rug Addy had put in front of the fireplace.

“Tom,” Harry said, collapsing next to him. “What’s going on? Sirius called me on the mirror and said he can’t get here to drag me home. The Floo won’t work. And he said Draco can’t remember the address and Sirius can’t tell him.”

“Addy’s alive,” Tom breathed, feeling exhausted and giddy. “She’s…she’s alive. Snape was able to get the dark curse out of her blood and Poppy replenished enough to get her through the night. Harry, she’s not aged a day since I last saw her. She had this on her.”

Tom opened his palm to show Harry the ring.

It wasn’t anything special. It was a cheap, brass piece of junk that Addy had had one of the Hogwarts House Elves pick up in bulk for their tests on making portable portkeys shortly after they’d moved to Park Quad. It sounded like a great idea: make sellable portkeys. Portkeys were regulated by the Ministry, so the average person couldn’t make one on a fly. Tom and Addy wanted to figure out how to preprogram Portkeys so people could buy them, keep them on their person, then use them when they needed them by uttering a simple word.

It’d never worked. Between the Ministry and getting them to work by use of a word instead of a set time, the rings never took off and were shelved.

Clearly, Addy had been experimenting without telling Tom.

“What is it?”

“A portkey. We were trying to make portable portkeys,” Tom explained. “The night she died, she went to save Regulus. He returned with Kreacher as we know, who hid him away till he awoke a few years ago. We all believed Addy died. Voldemort claimed her death.”

Harry nodded.

“He didn’t. She used this,” Tom thrust the ring forward again. “She must have…put some sort of time travel spell on this ring and forgot. She had several in her pocket, but this one was on her finger.”

“So she just grabbed a handful of failed portkeys and hoped for the best?” Harry asked, sounding doubtful.

Tom gave him a look.

“Okay. So, that was normal for Addy, then? You need to understand, I don’t know her. I didn’t even see her. You and Professor Lupin were just holding…air that was dripping blood. It was really creepy.”

Harry turned several shades of green.

“She put herself under a protective spell that made her invisible unless she told her location,” Tom whispered. “Do you know where you are?”

Harry shook his head in the negative.

“I can’t even tell you because I’m not the Secret Keeper. Addy is,” Tom said. “Hell, I don’t even know where we are. Lupin had to call out the address and shove me through.”

Harry floundered for a moment before he asked, “Is she all right?”

“She will be. Poppy, I mean Madam Pomfrey said she should be awake after the feast. Will you come with me? I wish you to meet her,” Tom said, a giddy feeling overwhelming him while he also felt sick beyond all known reason. His emotions were at war. He was worried, sad, filled with grief, happy, giddy, and thrilled his best friend had not perished all those years ago.

If only she’d shown up earlier.

Though, likely she’d not been able to due to the other Atlanta being alive. Now Atlanta was dead, it was safe for another one to live in the timeline once more.

“I’m a horrible person,” Tom whispered.

“What?” Harry asked.

“The only reason Addy is here is because Atlanta is dead. I’m here because Atlanta is dead. Addy is here because Atlanta is dead.”

“What? No. Don’t think that. This ring…it could have dumped her somewhere before Atlanta was born. Addy died in 1979. Atlanta wasn’t born until—”

“November 1980,” Tom said. “She said in her note to me she didn’t belong here and likely needed to clear the way for herself, as she was coming. The events were in place to make sure Atlanta Siria Black was born.”

“What events?”

“Sirius thought Remus was a Death Eater and they broke up,” Tom said. “It’s not my story to share, but it’s the reason there is an Atlanta Siria Black in both timelines.”

Harry did not appear to know what to do with this information.

Tom took the ring from Harry and turned it over in his hands. He stood up and headed for his bedroom. In his haste to get Atlanta help, he’d left his wand behind. Tom entered his room and grabbed his wand off the night stand. He whirled around and waved the wand over the ring in his hand. He frowned as what spells were upon the ring were revealed.

“It’s a locating time traveling spell,” Tom announced, looking up to find Harry in the doorway. “It was one of the ones we tested out to bring Calliope Riddle to us. She put it on a ring. Why?”

“I don’t know. What else is on the ring?”

“The portkey spell. I bet she forgot she’d put it on the ring before,” Tom muttered, shaking his head. “She never checked her spell work.”

“That your job?” Harry asked.

Tom nodded, setting the ring down on the desk. He stared at it. With another wave of his wand, he destroyed the spell work on the ring and in another vanished the ring from his sight.

“Uh, Tom?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Uh, at the start of the…well, when Dumbledore picked me up to bring me to Grimmauld Place, he gave me this. I was supposed to give it to you, but I kept forgetting. But, I happen to put it in my pocket last night, as Dumbledore might ask after it and I still hadn’t given it to you…” Harry babbled, holding out a crudely made ring with a great, big, ugly, cracked black stone in the center.

Tom reached out slowly and took it, looking it over and wondering why Dumbledore would think he’d want something gaudy and ugly.

“You’re the, uh, the rightful owner, being the last living Gaunt. Well, the last sane one as the other one turned that into a horcrux, hence the cracked stone.”

Tom gasped, dropping the ring on the floor.

“Regulus said it was free of any curses,” Harry said, bending down and picking it up. He turned it over in his hand. “It had some nasty ones on it, I guess. Dumbledore exposed himself to one, as his hands is, well, dead. Like black and withered.”

Tom looked at Harry sharply, but Harry missed it as he was studying the ring.

“It’s got this unknown coat of arms,” he said, tracing it with his finger. “Draco and I looked in the library but didn’t find anything—”

“You wouldn’t,” Tom snapped, taking the ring from him. He stared at the stone closely. “It’s the sign of the Deathly Hallows, a fairy tale. Remember? We spoke of it last year. There are people out there, such as Grindelwald, who believe the Deathly Hallows to be real. This was how they communicated their belief.”

“Was?”

“Grindelwald used it like…like Voldemort uses the Dark Mark. It’s fallen out of fashion to show your support of the Deathly Hallows with this mark.”

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together. “Then, why would the Gaunts…oh, I guess it was before Grindelwald. I mean, didn’t they die out before Voldemort was born?”

“No. My mother died before her father and brother. My grandfather died shortly after they released him from Azkaban for terrorizing a Ministry official and my uncle died within Azkaban for the murder of the Riddles.”

Harry gasped.

“Voldemort murdered the Riddles, after he completely wiped Atlanta’s mind, leaving her behind,” Tom said flatly.

Harry turned green.

Tom turned the ring over in his hands. “Voldemort likely stole the ring from my uncle. He would have inherited the heirlooms after my grandfather’s death.”

“I thought you said they were poor. Wouldn’t those, well, maybe not this ring, but wouldn’t famous heirlooms fetch much needed money for food or stuff?”

Tom snorted. “They were too proud to sell off heirlooms. Well, until my mother. She was not too proud.”

Tom was silent, remembering when he’d discovered how Voldemort had gotten the locket. Dumbledore had given the broken locket to Tom, the face cracked in half just like the stone after the horcrux had been vanished. Any magical properties the locket had had were gone, but it meant something to Tom to have something his mother had once owned. He made Lupin take him to Borgin & Burkes to see if he could find anything out about the locket. Borgin claimed it wasn’t genuine, just a knock off and proceeded to tell Tom and Lupin all about the time he’d bought and then sold the actual Slytherin locket.

“She was in the family way, somehow, the hag. Not a…” he’d trailed off upon seeing the thunderous expression on Tom’s face and went on to tell him about the idiot witch he’d sold it to. “It was stolen at some point as the family never found it after that bint died. So, who knows where the real locket is. Just a knock off. No magical properties.”

Tom had not cursed the lowly scum of a shop keeper, only due to the fact Remus beat him to it.

Remus was silent and deadly.

Borgin wouldn’t be sitting in as much gold in the near future as he was going to be overcome with the need to open a charity for orphans and no longer would cheat his customers.

“They are horrible people, but sometimes someone like your mother goes there. Those are the ones the curse will help the most,” Remus had confided.

“You know that curse is illegal.”

“Oh? Wasn’t aware,” Remus had airily admitted, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Tom found himself grinning and Harry staring at him blankly.

“Never mind,” Tom grumbled, looking back at the ring.

“What relative would be important enough for the Gaunts to keep that ugly ring?” Harry asked.

“The Peverells,” Tom quietly said, studying it intently. “Remember? The three brothers the fairy tale is based upon? The one who won the wand,” he tranced the thing line along the crack, “the one who wanted the stone that defeated death,” he traced the circle, “and the one who wished the hide from Death.” Tom finally traced the triangle. “The Deathly Hallows.”

Harry scooted closer to Tom, pressing their shoulders together. Or, well, as close as he could with their height differences.

“So, do you think this was a relic of one of the brothers?” Harry whispered as if he didn’t want to believe it.

“Maybe,” Tom allowed. “I’d have to research more and as a student, I’d not be able to get much of what I needed.”

“Could DeVinette?”

“Maybe, but I’d not be here to read it,” Tom said, turning the ring over again. “I’m not sure how I feel about Voldemort using family heirlooms as horcruxes.”

“Do you know of any other family heirlooms?”

“No. Though, if he found more, he’s turned them to horcruxes,” Tom bitterly complained. “I did not know of them until Dumbledore gave me the locket after I was solid.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He held onto the ones he had gotten rid of the horcrux, but since I was the Heir of Slytherin, he figured I ought to have the locket.”

“Can I see it?” Harry whispered.

“Well, as the proper Heir of Slytheirn, I don’t see why not.”

Tom moved away from the warmth of Harry to the desk drawer where he stored the locket. He unlocked the drawer and pulled the locket out. It was rather large and clunky, definitely ancient. He turned and held it out for Harry, who took it slowly and looked it over.

“I bet at one point it was kind of pretty,” Harry remarked, tracing the crack down the front. “Did it have any photos in it?”

“Yes. There was an unmoving photo of a man who looked remarkably like myself,” Tom quietly admitted. “It somehow survived.” 

Harry glanced up at Tom before he fully opened the locket and looked at the old photograph in it.

“She pawned it at Borgin and Burkes, after my father left her in London,” Tom explained. “Borgin didn’t open it during his investigations. Nor did anyone else, as I doubt the last owner would have left a photo of Thomas Riddle the Muggle behind.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed. “At least you’ve got a photo.”

Tom nodded, taking the locket back. “But, not one of her. There are actual several photos of the elders Riddles and their only son. They are all when he was quite young, likely before he met my mother.”

“Sorry.”

“Photos were still things only the rich took at the time, I believe.”

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore also told me before he left me at Grimmauld Place, you’re not a horcrux because the bit of soul actually belongs to you.”

“It was not my soul.”

“It’s part of your soul,” Harry corrected. “It’s…your DNA.”

“My what?”

“Genetic code? They talk about it in crime dramas all the time,” Harry explained. “It wasn’t part of my DNA so inside me, horcrux. It’s almost the same as yours, so your soul made it apart of you.”

Tom scowled. He hated to think about that.

“And you’ve waited so long to tell me because?"

Harry sighed.

“I got distracted by just…well, the horcrux, then the OWLs, then going to Diagon Alley, then, well, just being normal for a little bit. And you didn’t seem worried about being a horcrux,” Harry defended, ramming his hand through his hair. “Your soul doesn’t dictate who you are. It might influence it, but does not dictate it. The…less savory qualities you share with Voldemort? You still will. Like, for instance, you’re rudeness.”

Tom glared without feeling.

“But, that bit of soul did live with me for fourteen years, give or take. No one’s ever lived with another person’s soul like that before. I likely influenced it.”

Tom figured as much, since he hadn’t been possessed to carry out sinister plots or had any dire need to torture someone.

“And, as you often stated in the past, you are a very different person due to the choices you’ve made and your life experiences. Whose to say that if Voldemort hadn’t lived your life, he’d be more like you?”

“I believe there’s really only room for one of me, don’t you?”

Harry snorted. 

“We best…we best go to bed.”

“No, we best get a move on it if we’re going to figure out how to get to London. We’re supposed to go back to school in an hour.”

Tom cursed darkly.


	6. Real Life Must Go On

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken from _Halfblood Prince_ by JKR. **

* * *

“Where is he?” Sirius worried for the millionth time. “And what the heck is going on?”

“I still don’t know why he snuck out yet again,” Narcissa bristled while they stood on the platform.

Draco kept quiet, exchanging looks with Hermione whilst they waited to see if Tom and Harry managed to arrive in time to catch the train. The whistled blew, singling the students better get on. At the same moment there was a loud pop and an ancient House Elf appeared holding the hands of Harry and Tom, who both looked sleep deprived and rushed. Tom’s hair was sticking up and it looked hilarious. If he hadn’t been worried about where Harry had gone and why he suddenly didn’t know where Tom and Lupin lived, he would have laughed.

“There you are!” Sirius roared, chest swelling and winding himself up to shout more.

“Not now. Get on the train,” Narcissa snapped, giving Harry a look Draco never wished to be directed at him.

Harry nodded his agreement before hugging her and getting on the train with his head bowed. This caused her to look momentarily off kilter before she hugged Draco and Hermione and hurried them onto the train.

“Hey! I didn’t get any hugs!” Sirius complained.

The train started to move, the whistle drowning out whatever else Sirius was bellowing. Sirius jogged along side the train, still shouting, but the noise of the train drowned him out. As they turned the corner, Hermione reminded Draco they needed to go to the prefect meeting. And they were late.

“New Heads, hopefully not time sticklers.”

Turned out the new Head Boy and Girl were not time sticklers as they didn’t even turn up for the meeting till two minutes after Draco and Hermione and both were pink cheeked and distinctly mused. Hermione blushed and smirked. Draco stared at the ground, trying not to think about it.

The meeting ran long, so it was well past lunch when Draco and Hermione reached the compartment where Harry had sat himself with Tom, Luna, and Neville.

“There are Wrackspurts in here,” Luna said by way of greeting.

Hermione waved her hands through the air around her head as she moved into a seat. Draco mouthed the word at Harry who shrugged.

“They are invisible, honestly,” Hermione tutted. “Get in your ears and make things fuzzy.”

“Oh, well, then,” Draco said, batting the air around his ears.

“So, where were you this morning?” Hermione asked, sitting down across from Harry and next to Luna. “Sirius can’t tell us where Lupin lives and Draco and I can’t remember.”

“Uh,” Harry said, glancing at Tom, who was pressed into the corner of the compartment staring blankly out the window. His hair was still sticking up all over the place and his clothes were mismatched and wrinkled. Harry had changed into his uniform, so he’d clearly found the trunk they’d brought for him. “Last night, I guess, Addy Black came back.”

“From the dead?” Draco asked, horrified.

“No. She, erm, she time travelled.”

Luna looked up sharply. “She does that a lot, doesn’t she?”

Draco blinked.

“She didn’t die,” Tom said, staring out the window as the rain began to fall from angry skies. “She took what she thought was merely a portkey.”

“It wasn’t just a portkey?” Draco ventured, his mind reeling.

He’d thought for the past six years Addy Black was dead, that she’d perished battling Voldemort. Instead, she’d been simply time traveling to 1996.

“It was a portkey and a time travel device,” Luna breathed, looking utterly thrilled. “How brilliant.” 

“I destroyed it.”

Luna looked heart broken.

“That was wise,” Hermione assured Tom. “So…”

“Is time travel a thing with you guys?”

Everyone jumped, having forgotten Neville was in the compartment with them. Neville turned his round face to each one, then sighed.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but I assume it’s not the Atlanta I knew,” Neville said. “Who is she?”

“Atlanta D. Black,” Tom supplied. “The last Spellsmith to graduate from Hogwarts. It was assumed she’d died with Regulus Black in September 1979.”

“Regulus didn’t die,” Neville pointed out. “I don’t understand how he didn’t, but he’s alive. I’ve met him. And don’t feed me the story he’s Sirius’s cousin or whatever the official story is. That’s a load of bull.”

“How do you figure?” Draco asked.

“I saw him after the battle in the Ministry last year. He came to check on Sirius,” Neville said. “They look far too much alike to be only cousins and they were way to familiar with one another to be long lost relatives.”

Draco smiled at his friend.

“Addy was a Spellsmith. She invented spells for a living. One was a spell that locked Regulus in a moment, a rather important moment as he’d just ingested a lethal potion. Knowing it’d take Dumbledore awhile to discover the antidote, she locked him for fifteen years.”

“Oh,” Neville said, even though he clearly did not understand.

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you wanted to fight Voldemort. Welcome to my life.”

Harry was bittersweet as he said this, but Neville smiled.

“Regulus Black was a Death Eater, or a former one, right?” Neville asked, looking at Draco.

“Correct.”

“Okay. What else? You guys live very…weird lives,” Neville said, chuckling a little. “Keeps my boring life in perspective. But, anything to help against the war, right?”

“Right.”

“So, this…Addy, she saved Regulus because…”

“She knew he’d rejected the ways of the Dark One,” Draco ominously said.

“She had a duel with the Dark One,” Tom added. “I’m not sure how as of yet, but she convinced him she was dead and came here.”

Neville shook his head in wonder.

“Where’s she now?” Draco inquired.

Tom finally turned his face towards the group, eyes locking on Draco.

“The Hospital Wing,” Tom replied simply. “Madam Pomfrey said I would be allowed to visit after dinner tonight. I’ll request you be allowed to visit, as you did know her before.”

“You knew her?”

Everyone stared at Neville. He looked unsure and asked, “Do I really want to know?”

“If you tell him only Ginny will not know,” Luna replied.

“You know?” Hermione asked, sounding incredulous.

“Since the start,” Luna dreamily said. “The dust told me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course. The all knowing dust.”

Neville looked massively confused.

Tom locked eyes with Draco and Draco instantly knew what the other boy was going to say.

“Neville is important, but above all he is your friend. He should know, if he’s the only one left out.”

“And Ginny,” Harry added.

“Did Atlanta know?” Neville quietly inquired. “About whatever you’re alluding to?”

“Yes,” Draco said. “You and Ginny are the only ones in our group that do not know.”

Neville looked pleased be in any group, which made Draco want to tell him even more. He glanced at Hermione, who gave him a look that told him it was his secret to tell.

So many people knew already, what were two more?

Draco took a deep breath. “My seventh year at Hogwarts, I made a choice to travel back in time to my eleven-year-old body and redo the timeline to prevent Voldemort from getting to power.”

Neville appeared doubtful.

“I’ve managed to change a few things,” Draco defended. “I accidentally sent the Atlanta Black I originally knew back to the 1970s. We call her Addy, as she’s quite different from the Atlanta Lupin we knew.”

Harry shifted uneasily. 

Neville sat back heavily and glanced between all of them, appearing as if he was waiting for his head to explode.

“You’re here because of this Addy Black, right? She accidentally made you, right?”

Tom nodded.

“Okay,” Neville said. “So, since I’m late to the party, do we know what big thing is happening this year that we’ve got to prevent so Voldemort doesn’t take over? Because, well, so far— Draco, I’m sorry, but you’re not doing a good job.”

Draco snorted darkly. “Yeah, well, there’s fixed points in time. We have to work around those.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll write you a summary,” Hermione assured, patting Neville’s knee. “Ginny will likely be confused when we tell her as well.”

“I dunno if she’ll believe you,” Neville hazard. “I’m not sure I want to, other than…well, a Malfoy in Gryffindor. Who would think we’d see that?”

Draco snorted. “I rather like Gryffindor. More cozy and friendly. And warmer.”

“Oh, gosh. You were a Slytherin,” Neville realized. “Oh. You didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t know you,” Draco was quick to correct. “I didn’t know Harry or Hermione or any of you because I kept to my own House and, well, I was an utter prat. I thought the world of myself and made sure everyone knew it and if they failed to agree, well, I was a bully.”

“Like Nott?” Neville quietly asked, looking at Draco as if he didn’t want to know him any longer.

Draco felt his cheeks heat and he forced himself to maintain eye contact with Neville.

“Yes.”

“But, unlike Nott, he’s seen the error of his ways,” Hermione quickly put in. “Has he been anything but kind to you since he met you?”

Neville shifted guiltily. “What was I like?”

“I don’t honestly know,” Draco said. “I didn’t actually know you past what I saw in classes. You weren’t…very good.”

“Well, of course not!” Neville shouted. “I must have been dismal since you weren’t around to help me!”

“Neville—”

“No! You were the first person who actually saw me, Draco! You didn’t care who my dad was, didn’t care that I couldn’t do anything as easily as everyone else!” Neville exclaimed, looking frustrated suddenly. “You kept telling me to be myself and it didn’t matter how good my dad had been at magic or anything. You saw me.”

Neville thumped himself in the chest.

“No one ever saw me before that,” Neville finished a little quietly having realized everyone was staring at him.

“No one saw me till I was in Gryffindor,” Draco quietly said. “I…never tried very hard to…be myself. Until I was in Gryffindor.”

Hermione squeezed his hand.

Neville nodded. “Okay, so time travel. Got it. Draco’s done this all once before as a Slytherin. Got it. There is another Atlanta Black, who is from Draco’s original timeline. Got it.”

“I think that sums it up,” Luna offered, patting Neville on the head. “Speaking of Nott, we’ve yet to see him and its after lunch.”

“Did we miss the trolley?” Draco asked, his stomach rumbling.

“Yes. Here. I got you this,” Harry said, shoving some pumpkin pasties at him. Draco split them between himself and Hermione. “Was Nott at the prefect meeting?”

Draco hadn’t noticed, but luckily Hermione did.

“Yes, actually. It seems he’s branching out from being a Draco clone.”

“Har, har, har,” Draco mocked as the compartment door slid open and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

“I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-P-Potter,” she faltered, her eyes drifting towards Harry. She immediately turned bright red, but managed to hold out two scrolls. Neville looked massively confused, but reached forward (he was closer) and took the two rolls of parchment, handing Harry his. The girl stumbled backwards and out of the compartment.

“What is it?” Hermione inquired, trying to look over Neville’s shoulder.

“An invitation I would assume,” Tom drawled, going back to staring blankly out the window, “to be collected by Horance Slughorn.”

Harry made a noise somewhere between distaste and amusement.

“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” Neville asked.

“New teacher,” Harry replied. “Do I have to go?”

“You ought to, since you missed eating a proper meal this morning,” Tom said flatly.

“They don’t serve proper meals on the train,” Harry pointed out.

“He’ll have good food,” Tom offered blankly, still staring out the window. “He does love his food.”

Harry made a noise of frustration and stormed out of the compartment. Neville glanced between Tom and Draco before going after Harry.

“What is wrong with you?” Hermione demanded.

“She’s alive because Atlanta’s dead,” Tom stated sharply, turning his insanely blue eyes on Hermione. “I spent nineteen years mourning her, but she’s in fact alive only because Atlanta’s dead. I am only solid and sitting here, feeling the cushion and vibrations because Atlanta’s dead.”

Hermione looked unsure how to respond to that and glanced at Draco, who less knew how to behave. While he had relatives pass, he’d only lost one friend and that was Crabbe. Crabbe had been dead less than an hour before Draco had time travelled and the lumbering giant was alive and stupid once again.

Tom turned sharply away and went back to brooding. Luna stuck her strange looking spectacles on and went back to reading the Quibbler upside down. Hermione cleared her throat and began talking about what she’d learned whilst her family was vacationing in Sweden.

“Daddy and I went to Sweden this summer,” Luna said, peaking out from behind her upside down magazine. “We used the money he got from selling Harry’s story to the _Daily Prophet_. We went Crumple-Horned Snorkstack searching. They’re native.”

“Yes, I read that,” Hermione replied before Draco could snort. “They live in Northern Sweden, don’t they?”

“Yes. We failed to find them. They are good at hiding.”

“Did you visit Stockholm?”

“No. We didn’t have time before Daddy needed to be back at work,” Luna lamented.

“Mum and Dad have their own practice and just shut down for a solid month so we can travel,” Hermione said.

“Oh, how wonderful,” Luna offered, giving Hermione a faint smile. Hermione nodded then began talking about the broom racing she’d learned about.

Harry and Neville were gone until they were nearing school. Neville changed into his school robes along with everyone else, save Harry who’d already put his on. Hermione and Draco hurried off the train as it arrived, trusting the others to get their trunks. Draco hated this part most about being a prefect: supervising arrival and getting the second years to the carriages. After everyone was in a carriage, Draco spotted a familiar looking witch standing on the platform.

“Wocher, Draco,” the witch called, sounding like Tonks, but looking nothing like her. She waved, then turned back to scanning the platform.

“Is that Tonks?” Hermione whispered, appearing at his side.

“Yeah.”

“What is with her hair?” Hermione asked. “Isn’t it usually…more vibrate?”

Tonks’ hair was mousy brown and a little frizzy. She also had an air of miserableness to her that seemed out of character.

“Come on, we best move or the last carriage will leave us behind,” Hermione said, tugging on Draco’s sleeve.

The pair snagged a seat in the last carriage with the new fifth year prefects from Hufflepuff. Both were super excited to be prefects and chattered the entire way about how awesome the year was going to be and kept asking what Hermione and Draco for tips.

Draco had no tips, other than not to be a prefect.

Clearly, he didn’t follow his own advice as he was a prefect.

* * *

After the Sorting was through, dinner filled the plates and Draco merrily ate his fill of chicken and dumplings. For dessert he had some chocolate gateau. The table was rather subdue (for Gryffindor). Most of the table kept sneaking looks at Tom, who ate at record speed and vanished to see Addy in the Hospital Wing. As people finished, the food vanished, and Dumbledore stood up. The talk and laughter died down and the whole hall was silent.

“The very best of evenings to you!” Dumbledore said, smiling broadly, opening his arms wide enough to embrace the whole room.

This action allowed the population to see his dead hand. Draco, who’d paid little attention the first time around, gasped as the hand was black as night and very, very dead looking. It was worst than he’d imagined after Harry described it. Whispers and other gasps swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his cursed hand.

Draco glanced across the room to where Hermione was seated and she looked grave. Draco turned to Harry only to find him missing.

“He went with Tom,” Neville whispered as Dumbledore assured the population airily, “Nothing to worry about.”

Draco pressed his lips together and turned his attention to Dumbledore.

“Now, to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you!”

Dumbledore continued on in the same vain he did every year, reminding everyone the Forest was out of bounds and there were new items on the banned list, mostly every single product sold by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for a new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

“We are also pleased to welcome a new member to the staff this year, Professor Slughorn,”—Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoat belly casting the table below in shadow—“who is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post as Potions master.”

The crowd began whispering.

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore went on, raising his voice so it carried over the muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Neville looked as if someone had cancelled Christmas.

Dumbledore cleared his throat as the whispering had risen in volume. The noise ceased.

“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining strength.”

The silence tautened and strained. Draco looked at Nott, who whitened, but continued to stare forcefully at his empty plate. He sat between Crabbe and Goyle, who looked as smug as the other Death Eater children seated at the table. Like at the end of the school year before, Blaise Zabini and Ronald Weasley were at the other end of the table, surrounded by the few who did not support Voldemort’s ways. None of these students appeared smug or gleeful as the news, but seldom as the rest of the school.

“I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magic fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we still must guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them— in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and other’s safety.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before smiling once again.

“But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip, pip!”


	7. Never Leave the Past Behind

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

 

_A/N: Timeline wise: Tom was one his own for nineteen years, while Addy’s been “dead” for twenty. Why? Because Sirius lived with Tom for roughly a year after Addy “died.” (Proofing this, I was getting confused by the Tom’s use of nineteen and twenty. Then I remembered: Sirius lived there till he went to jail.)_

* * *

Draco didn’t have a morning class, allowing he had a two hour block of free time the first morning of classes. Seeing Tom had class (he’d taken Airthmancy as he’d never actually taken it before— yet somehow passed the OWL), Draco figured this was a good time to go see Addy Black in the Hospital Wing. He slipping away without Harry’s notice while Harry was bemoaning his morning schedule. Pushing the door to the Hospital Wing open, Draco found the ward void of life. Just a line of white, empty beds and bright sunshine.

At the noise of the door closing behind Draco, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, seemingly unsurprised to see him. “She mentioned you’d be here to see her as soon as you had a free moment. She’s this way.”

Beckoning him with a hand, Madam Pomfrey vanished into the back of the ward. Draco hurried passed the empty beds till he met Madam Pomfrey at a closed door. She took one look at him and tutted.

“She’s badly off, but she’s a stubborn woman. Likely the only reason she’s even here.”

Draco nodded dumbly.

Madam Pomfrey opened the door and motioned Draco into the seemingly empty room. There looked to be a person shaped thing in the white hospital bed, but the room was lifeless save for him and Pomfrey.

“Miss Black, you need to—”

“Oh yeah!” said a very softly Southern American accent that was oh so unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. “I’m Atlanta Dorothy Black and I am right here!”

And suddenly without a single noise or movement of air, there was an unfamiliar person in the bed smiling at him.

Draco stared.

“Oh, I guess I look different, don’t I?” she asked, patting her straight, mahogany hair. “Dumbledore put glamours on me all those years ago. I doubt I look much like the girl you saw before you vanished.”

Draco shook his head. “No, but I knew you had glamours. I found your photo in an old paper, but it’s still…not the same.”

Atlanta nodded. “Oh, the hair. Yeah. It got annoying so I chopped it all off.”

It wasn’t the hair, but Draco didn’t correct her.

“I’ll leave you two,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Try not to excite her too much. She does have a large wound around her middle and is still in need of several doses of Blood Replenishing Potion.”

Draco nodded as the Madam exited. He shuffled over to the plain wooden chair next to the bed and sat. He felt Addy’s keen eyes studying him intently. He shifted uncomfortably.

“So, here you are,” Addy softly muttered. “God, you look nothing like the last time I saw you.”

“Well, I’m not scared to death and about to do something dangerous and illegal,” Draco drawled.

Addy snorted. “True. Your hair…what the heck is going on with that mop on your head?”

Draco ran his fingers through his loose hair and shrugged. “Embracing the Gryiffindor way of hair keeping: let it go.”

“Ohmygod. Tom sorted himself into Gryffindor too! I don’t even know how to handle that information. And his hair! Where did it go? He has such lovely hair and now it’s totally channeling Gene Kelley. And I just accidentally time travelled for the second time in my life.”

“True. You seem to accidentally time travel often,” Draco said, repeating someone else’s words.

“Yeah, seems to be the case,” Addy grumbled. She let out a breath, cringed, then shook her head, tucking her short hair behind her ears. “So, Tom’s told me all about the changes in the timeline so far. Seems I died. Again.”

“You’re not dead,” Draco snapped. “You and Atlanta Lupin are two very different people. Just as all the others we used to know in the previous timeline are separate people.”

Addy nodded. “That’s how you’ve separated them in your head. Smart. I kind of did that too. You know, being friends with my own father.”

“Yes, how is that going to work?” Draco inquired. “He knows Atlanta was his child.”

“I’d hope so, since she took his last name,” Addy remarked. “I don’t know how it will work when I get out of here. I’ve kinda not thought about it since I woke up last night to Tom drilling me.”

“He wanted to know the four-one-one?”

“He did,” Addy answered, not noticing his use of the odd phrase Sirius often utilized. Draco inwardly smirked, finally learning where Sirius had gotten that phrase from.

“Tom didn’t share, by the way. How did you exactly end up here?”

Addy’s right cheek hitched up and her eyes (an odd jade color) twinkled a little. “Oh, ’tis a great tale. You got an hour?”

“Two, actually.”

Addy’s right cheek hitched up further and she studied Draco. “I take it y’all know how Regulus went to get one of those toxic horcurxes, right?”

Draco extended his head in agreement.

“Yeah, so, he went off with Kreacher and drank the potion. It induces nightmare and makes you really thirsty. Anyway, I had put a location spell Tom and I were in the mists of testing on him when he came to visit to tell me his horrible plan. The location spell was supposed to break through any wards but I knew the wards Moldy Trousers put on the cave wouldn’t be able to be broken by the location spell, mostly because it was still in the testing phase but also because Moldy had learned from breaking our wards and likely strengthened his own. I was totally right to be worried as they were so thick and complicated I was worried I’d never break through them.”

“How did you?”

“I cut myself,” Addy said, looking a little sheepish. “On accident during a tantrum. A drop of my blood hit the wards and they shimmered, letting me through.”

Draco frowned. “Why would they do that?”

Addy shrugged. “Likely because he keyed them to let anyone in with blood similar to mine?”

“Ah,” Draco said, realizing what she was telling him. “So if Atlanta found it, she’d be able to enter.”

“And be trapped. When I went through, I couldn’t get out. Not that I wanted out. Once I was in there, I could Apparate into the cave, right to Reggie using the location spell. I got there just after Reggie had drunk the potion and touched the water. Kreacher was dithering, so I dragged him out, used the time lock spell I’d invented to keep fruit fresh longer—“

“That’s why you invented that spell?” Draco interrupted.

“Yeah, but it didn’t work right on non-living things like fruit. Plants and animals, yeah, it worked great. I thought it’d be great for vets and doctors or something, but further investigations led us to realize when living things— such as myself— were under the spell, you couldn’t do anything to fix what was wrong. So, it was kind of useless, so we shelved it.”

“But, you used it on Regulus. And saved his life.”

“Yeah, well, in cases of poison ingestion, it’d work great, but the wand movement is complicated and the incantation is difficult, as you’ve got to know how long you want to freeze the person for and all this other stuff.”

“You did it,” Draco pointed out.

“Well, yeah. I had thought long and hard. Kreacher had drunk the same stuff Reggie was planning on to and at the time there was no known cure. So, I wrote up a request asking Dumbledore and Snape to research an antidote and gave them fifteen years to do it.”

“Why fifteen?”

Addy shrugged. “I figured if they didn’t know how to cure Reggie by them, Dumbledore would have figured out how to preform the timelock spell.”

Draco let out a puff of air through his nose quickly. Addy looked away from him, picking at her nails absently.

“So, by the time I’d locked Reggie, gotten Kreacher to agree to take him to Dumbledore, Moldy was on his way. I’d known he was looking for me and why, but I was not the Atlanta Black he was looking for. That night, he found out I was not the Atlanta Black he was looking for. He was less than pleased.”

Draco snorted.

“So, he and I exchanged some serious spell work. He was livid I’d discovered his horcruxes, but because Regulus had drunk the potion and the bowl had refilled itself, Moldy assumed I’d not gotten around to stealing his evil soul necklace. He was impressed with my dueling, but I was nothing like Calliope. Which, duh. I’m not Calliope Riddle. So, the curse that got me, well, no clue what it was, but god did it hurt like a mofo. Now, before I left my flat, I grabbed a handful of the portkey rings Tom and I had been trying to make work. I figured the more the merrier. When Moldy showed up, I put on two, hoping one would work. Anyway, the stomach wound kind of made me worthless, so he was closing in to kill, doing his Disney villain thing—”

Draco kind of really wanted to know what that meant, as Harry had said something similar, but he didn’t interrupt.

“—so he gave me time to think. I hit the portkey on my left hand, whispered Park Quad. It takes about five to ten-seconds for the portkey spell— flaw if you’re wanting to make a quick escape. So, while I waited for the spell to kick in, I backed up and fell backwards into the water.”

Draco frowned. “Water?”

“Cave by the ocean. Filled with water. Moldy made a lake and filled with dead people, Inferi. The ones in Moldy’s lake are programmed to react to human movement in the water. You see, Regulus touched the water and activated them while I was trying to save him with Kreacher, so I’d seen them in action already. They just pull you down, to drown you and kill you, likely to add you to the dead army when Moldy gets around to it. Since I knew if I struggled I’d join the army, I didn’t move. Playing possum bought me enough time for the portkey to kick in.”

Draco shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“I mean, I was kind of almost dead,” Addy mused, shrugging then grimacing. “So, since I don’t check my spellwork because I’m a lazy being, it wasn’t actually just a portkey, but a portkey with a time traveling spell on it. I thought that maybe I could use time travel to save Reggie, but gave that up as none of the spells worked. Know why? Because the portkey spell was already on the ring. Anyway, the two spells mixed and it dumped me outside in the hallway in 1996 rather than 1979. Didn’t notice any changes, so I stumbled in and reactivated my protection spells. Didn’t realize I’d traveled twenty years into the future, so I was mildly shocked when Tom was solid so I passed out.”

“Yes. That is rather new.”

“I figured. I told Calliope how to make him solid if she ever got the chance. I almost took him with me that night, but didn’t think making him solid in front of Moldy in a cave of Moldy’s creation was a great idea.”

“You knew where you were going?”

“Yeah. Kreacher told me,” Addy said. “He’s my House Elf. Is he still alive?”

“I believe so. I’ve only seen him once or twice,” Draco admitted. “The flat is quite clean for being filled with males, so he must be cleaning it still.”

Addy snorted. “So, I noticed y’all are calling me Addy.”

She did not look pleased.

“Sorry. Tom called you that and we needed a way to keep you apart from Atlanta.”

“Lanta. What is wrong with Lanta?”

“Sounds too much like Atlanta,” Draco pointed out. “At the time, she was still Atlanta Black, so we couldn’t exactly call one of you by your surname. Tom called you Addy, so we all went with it. Though, if you did not allow people to call you that, it explains why it took Sirius months to stop calling you Lanta.”

“I only let Reggie and Remus to call me that,” Addy admitted. “I never heard Tom call me that.”

“I guess he started after you died.”

Addy nodded. “Y’all gonna to keep calling me that?”

“Unless you do not want. Harry will likely to be unable to call you Atlanta.”

Atlanta sighed. “Yeah, I noticed that. He’s not really dealing with her death very well, is he? He’s so…so different from the Harry I kinda knew. He’s…happier. Even with this whole grief thing he’s got going on right now.”

“He’s not had as hard of time since I arrived, I’d like to think. He’s got a family, stability, and I try to keep him from killing himself.”

Addy nodded. “That’s good. So…”

“So?”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment.

“Since y’all are calling me Addy, I think I’ll change my name,” Addy proclaimed. “I can’t go back to being Atlanta D. Black, as she’s kind of publicly dead.”

“Regulus is as well, but still goes by Regulus.”

“Ah, but he’s not American and a simply middle name change solved his issue. And I guess accent change. Where the heck was he supposed raised? Tom couldn’t tell me.”

Draco shrugged. “I think that was the point. Give him a bland enough accent you can’t tell where he’s from.”

“Tom is so bothered he can’t figure it out.”

Draco shrugged.

“Anyway, I’m not all that attached to the name Atlanta. My mother named me after the city. I’m serious. I’ve never told anyone, but in her will, she apologized for naming me after a city, but I was a born out of wedlock and not actually a proper Black, so she didn’t think I ought to have a proper Black name.”

“That’s why you were named so? That’s…horrible,” Draco whispered.

“I know. I used to tell people she liked the Greek myth about Atalanta,” Addy said. “I mean, that’s what she used to tell me when I was a kid, so I just stuck with it. But, both versions of Circe Hilderbatch are dead, so whatever. Let dead dogs lie or whatever the saying is.”

“She named you after yourself this time around.”

“I know. Tom told me,” Addy said, shaking her head. “Atlanta was always told she was named after me. Wizard, huh?”

Draco gave her a strange look, but she flapped her hand at him. He was hit again with how he didn’t really know her. She was just a person he used to know. And never all that well.

“Anyway, it was nice the other Atlanta was named because Circe heard Remus say he’d name his daughter after me. So much nicer than being named after a huge city in Georgia just because she saw it on a map when trying to think of a name for me.”

Draco made a face.

“I know. Anyway, since y’all are calling me Addy, I’m thinking of changing my name to Addison.”

“Addison?”

“What?”

“Not very…wizard.”

Addy snorted.

“What about your code name?”

“Adrasteia? That’s kind of a mouthful,” Addy remarked.

“Sounds more of a name a wizarding family would choose.”

“Maybe I’m a Muggleborn!”

“Oh? You’re not going to go by Black?”

Addy pinked a little in her cheeks. “No. I was going to take Lupin’s name and be his distant cousin. Addison Lupin. I was going to have Dumbledore remove his super strong glamours no one but him can get off and go back to looking like I naturally am. I’d only be Addy Black, well…”

“If I take you back?”

Draco whipped around to find Regulus Black draped in the doorway as if he wasn’t interrupting a private meeting between two…people who once knew one another in another lifetime.

Draco turned back to Addy to find her staring at Regulus Black as if the sun and moon set on his face. Having seen Sirius look at a certain wizard in a similar manner, Draco knew to make himself scare. He excused himself without either of the other two in the room breaking eye contact or noticing his exit. He made his way down the Hospital Wing and pondered. He’d known Regulus was in love with Addy, but the fact the feeling was returned ten fold was kind of…breathtaking to see.

And made him a little jealous.

Shaking his head, he pushed the feeling deep down and hurried off to make it to his first class.

* * *

“Though, if you wish to be technical, you are the one who chose to end things so you’d have to take me back,” Regulus said to the empty air. He knew Addy was there, he was still unable to see her as the last time he’d been in her presence.

Regulus cleared his throat, shutting the door and taking the seat Draco had vacated.

“So, Sirius tells me you’re not dead,” Regulus offered. “Seems to be some of that going around.”

“Reggie,” breathed Addy’s voice somewhere on the bed. He could see the shape of her legs, so he put his hand there.

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“I’m Atlanta Dorothy Black and I’m right here,” a choked up voice stated next to him.

Suddenly, Regulus had a face full of Atlanta D. Black and he couldn’t be happier. He placed his hands on either side of her too pale face and drank his first glimpse of her in years. She’d lopped off most of her gorgeous hair (seemed the thing to do in times of strife for both girls named Atlanta), her skin was pale (likely due to blood loss), and those jade green eyes were staring at him filled with as much love as he’d always seen— even as she told him she hated him.

He’d never believed her.

There were words needing to be said, things to sort out, stories to be told, but that could wait. There was one thing Regulus Black had wanted to do from the instant Sirius had told him Atlanta D. Black wasn’t as dead as they thought.

“I need to kiss you.”

“Okay.”

And Regulus did just that.


	8. The Halfblood Princes

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts taken from _Halfblood Prince_ by JKR. **

* * *

“Where were you?” Harry asked when Draco joined him outside the new Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It seemed Snape didn’t want to use the old DADA classroom, so he opted for a different classroom on the third floor. He’d kept his old office, allowing the old one to remain pink and covered in cats. It was rumored you could ear all the cat painting meowing and carrying on sadly behind the locked door. Draco had never bothered to find out if there was any merit to the rumor. 

“He went to see Addy,” Tom said, stuffing things into his bag wearing a sour expression.

Harry eyed the dour boy. “Got some homework?”

Tom gave Harry a tired look. “Of course. Being a NEWT student isn’t a ticket to easy street simply because you’ve got free periods. Arithmancy is serious business.”

“Of course,” Harry quickly agreed.

“How was she this morning? Still channelling a bed sheet?” Tom asked, turning his attention to Draco.

Before Draco had a chance to answer, the classroom door slammed opened, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed by two curtains of black hair free of grease.

Draco blinked.

He _washed_ his hair? Why had he washed his hair? It was…shiny in a good way.

“Get in,” Snape quietly ordered, ignoring the stares of everyone standing in line.

Tom, not finding anything amiss, moved around the others who weren’t moving and walked into the classroom. Snape continued to stare at the queue, not bothering to acknowledged Tom. Draco elbowed Harry, who stumbled into Neville, whose squeak seemed to wake everyone else up and the line entered under the watchful eye of Severus Snape, the No Longer Greasy-Haired Batman.

“His hair,” Hermione whispered, taking the seat next to Draco, as Harry had seated himself next to Tom.

Draco startled. While logically he knew that since they were NEWT students, they’d no longer be separated by Houses (and Tom was solid), he had stupidly assumed this meant that Harry would continue to sit next to him.

“I have not asked you to take out your books,” Snape reminded the room, closing the door and moving to the front of the classroom he had forced his liking of dark spaces upon. The first time Draco hadn’t really noticed the state of Snape’s classroom, but this room was gloomy, the curtains all drawn and the candles that did light the room were dimmer than most candles. There were pictures adorning the walls, many showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries, or strangely contorted body parts.

Hermione, upon hearing Snape, dropped her book back into her book bag, along with a few other students.

“I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention.”

His black eyes roved around, lingering on Harry for a second longer than anyone else.

“You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am amazed so many of you managed to scrap by an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be more advanced.”

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking in a lower voice making everyone crane their necks to hear.

“The Dark Arts,” began Snape, “are many, varied, every changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. And you fail to be Captain America.”

Many in the classroom exchanged befuddled looks, Draco and Hermione among them.

Tom choked on a snort.

Of course Tom knew who Captain America was.

Snape glanced at Tom, smirk on his lips before he went on, “Your defenses must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures” —he indicated to a few as he swept by— “give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse, feel the Dementor’s Kiss, or provoke the aggression of the Inferius.”

“Has an Inferius been seen, then?” Parvati Patil squeaked. “Is it definite, is he using them?”

“The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,” Snape replied, glancing at Tom, “which means you would be well-advised to assume he will use them once more. Now…”

Snape rounded and made his way back to his desk, his black robes billowing behind him. He reached the desk and turned, eyes roving the class once again, resting on Harry and Tom a second longer than anyone else.

“You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells.” He gave a look towards Tom, whose face Draco couldn’t see, but Tom did seem to be vibrating. He raised an eyebrow before his eyes landed on Draco. “What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell, Mr Riddle?”

Hermione, whose hand had shot up before Snape had finished asking, looked saddened not to be able to answer.

Tom straightened and replied, “Your adversary will have no warning of what spell you plan to produce if you don’t shout it. Granted, the moment the light comes out, they’ll know, so it’s only a split second advantage.”

Snape appeared as if he had swallowed a lemon. “Correct in the essentials. You do gain an element of surprise, but not all wizards are able to do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power, which some”— his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry for a moment then Neville— “lack.”

Neville sighed. Harry looked as if he was going to attack at any second.

“You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Miss Granger, please partner with Mr Riddle. I believe you two will be too advanced for the others.”

While Tom looked insanely pleased with this praise, Hermione pressed her lips together and looked as if she was going to explode. She nonetheless marched over to Tom without uttering a word.

Snape was right. Within a second, the pair were silently dueling one another while everyone else struggled. Draco was supposed to be jinxing Harry, but he had never exactly mastered silent hex casting. Some spells, yes, he could do silently. Vanishing, cleaning charms, a few Shield charms, but jixes and hexes? The things you had to _mean_ to cast. Those he’d never really the hang of before all hell broke loose. 

“You are trying too hard, Mr Malfoy,” Snape proclaimed, appearing out of nowhere at Draco’s shoulder. “Not as pathetic as Longbottom, but let me show you the proper way—”

Snape turned his wand on Harry before Draco could stop him and, of course, Harry reacted fast and instinctively. He yelled, “ _PROTEGO!”_ loud enough for Dumbledore to hear him in his office four floors above. The charm was strong enough it knocked both Snape and Draco off their feet. Draco hit the floor while Snape rammed into a desk. Draco stared at the ceiling while Snape righted himself.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing _nonverbal_ spells, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed.

“Yes, _sir._ ”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

Several people gasped while Draco slapped his hand over his face.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter…not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

“Chosen for what, sir?”

Before Snape could give Harry any more detention, either Tom or Hermione sent one of their nonverbal spells at Snape, knocking him once again off his feet only this time he landed on the floor. Snape leapt to his feet, turning to face the pair only to find them still locked in their silent duel. He narrowed his black eyes, yet did nothing but turn back and try to get Harry to cast the Shield Charm silently. Draco picked himself off the floor to watch how Snape cast the hexes silently, though his dislike of Harry aided this endeavor hence he meant every jinx he hit Harry with. When it was Draco’s turn once more, he tried to remember the time Harry had dragged him through the castle first year in the dead of night to duel Nott even though Draco kept telling the kid it was a trap.

That seemed to work. Draco got his jinx to hit Harry, who failed to be able to cast a silent Shield Charm. Harry glowered as his feet tap danced away without his consent. 

* * *

After another break, Draco, Tom, and Hermione headed off to Ancient Runes, which was horrible. They left with a load of homework assigned. Hermione complained she was never going to finish this lot of work without a Time Turner, which made Draco chuckle and Tom look interested in finding one.

After lunch, Tom, Hermione, and Draco joined Neville and Harry in completing Snape’s homework. It was as dreadful as Draco remembered. It was why he had given up and not done it. Or any of the homework. But, this time, he didn’t have the excuse he was trying to kill Dumbledore, so he had to do it. Draco felt as if his brain was going to ooze out of his ears by the time they finished, shortly before they all had to head down to the dungeon classroom for Potions.

“Is it going to be weird to be in there without Snape?” Harry asked as they neared the corridor.

“It’ll be brighter,” both Tom and Draco offered in unison.

There were only a dozen people progressing to NEWT level for Potions. Blaise Zabini, Ronald Weasley, one of the two girls who hung around with them, plus Nott had made it through from Slytherin. Three Ravenclaws had made it and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillian.

“Harry,” Ernie greeted pompously, holding his hand out as Harry approached, “didn’t get a chance to speak in Defense this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old MC lags…and how are you, Draco? Hermione?”

“Fine,” Draco replied.

“Good.”

“And you are?” Ernie curiously asked, looking at Tom.

Tom didn’t answer, as the door slammed open and a huge belly came out followed by the rest of the Slughorn. He beamed a smile at them till his eyes fell on Tom, and the smile slid off his face and he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“I thought that a dirty, mean joke,” Slughorn faintly said, staring at Tom.

“I’m afraid not, sir. I was named after my father,” Tom proclaimed, much to the confusion of everyone in the hallway. “TR DeVinette.”

“Oh,” Slughorn said. “But you…”

“Don’t use DeVinette.”

The others in the hallway began to whisper amongst themselves.

“Your father is called Tom Riddle?”

“Yes. His mother thought it funny,” Tom lied flawlessly. While Draco thought he’d throw in a charming smile here, he remained stone faced and unamused. “I however, don’t need two _riddles_ in my name, thank you very much. One is fine.”

Slughorn made a series of complicated expressions before he spotted Harry and shouted, “Harry, m’boy! Blaise! How you do! How you do!” and grabbed both boys and pushed them into the classroom. Tom rolled his eyes and followed, along with everyone else. The Ravenclaws were eyeing Tom with a newfound interest.

Draco hooked his arm through Hermione’s and entered. He towed her over to the cauldron where the Love Potion was bubbling away and was shortly joined by Tom and Harry. Harry stared at the potion with a look of alarm, while Tom turned his back to it. Draco knew what the potion would smell like to him, so he ignored it. He was simply curious what Hermione might say if she got over excited as she tended to do when answering questions.

“Now then, now then, now then,” Slughorn said, looking through the various vapors at the students. “Scales out, everyone, and potions kits, and don’t forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making._ ”

There was noise as everyone got out their kits and scales. Once the movement settled down, Slughorn rocked on his heels, inflating his already bulging chest so that the bottoms on his waistcoat threaten to fly off, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He indicated to the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself out of his seat to see, frowning at the sight. Hermione’s hand flew into the air, almost knocking Draco over. Tom glanced at Hermione, then back at Slughorn. Slughorn pointed to Hermione after a quick peek to see what Tom was doing.

The man did not buy Tom’s story of his origins. Seeing as Slughorn was a former professor, he might have been at Hogwarts when the original Tom Riddle breezed on through.

“That’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” Hermione recited.

“Very good, very good,” Slughorn happily crowed. “Now, this on here is pretty well known. Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too. Who can—”

Hermione’s hand flew into the air, this time hitting Draco in the ear.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she answered. “Turns the person into another person by the addition of hair.”

Draco turned to look at Nott, who sat up straighter. The table the Polyjuice was on was filled with curious Ravenclaws and Draco could see the cogs in Nott’s head working on how to get some.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here, yes, my dear?” Slughorn fondly asked, as Hermione’s hand was still in the air.

“It’s Amorentia!”

“It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?”

He looked almost torn, like he wanted to be impressed, yet was totally bemused as well.

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world,” Hermione breathed, staring at the potion.

Tom suddenly looked at it and blinked.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

Tom appeared as if he was going to be sick.

“Yes. And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” Hermione excited recited, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attract us, and I can smell evergreens and new parchment and—”

Hermione abruptly stopped talking and turned pink.

“Where as I smell pine trees, cake, and dust bunnies,” Tom announced.

“Dust bunnies?” Slughorn faintly asked.

Tom shrugged.

Harry sniffed himself for some reason, frowning deeply.

“My dear,” Slughorn directed his attention back to Hermione, “may I ask your name?”

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggleborn.”

Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table, where Nott sat not sniggering or reacting. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d think Nott was a life sized doll, but he was clearly breathing and blinking occasionally.

“Oho! ‘One of my best friends if Muggleborn, and she’s the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend whom you spoke, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Ravenclaw, Miss Granger,” Slughorn genially said, patting his belly.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, “Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year?”

“You are,” Harry whispered back.

Hermione beamed at Harry and turned to face forward, where Slughhorn was heading for his desk.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh, yes,” he said, looking over at Weasley who was looking skeptical. “When you have seen as much life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.”

Tom looked as if he was going to be ill.

“And now, it is time for us to start work.”

“Sir, you haven’t told us what’s in this one,” Macmillian called out, pointing at the small black cauldron standing on Slughorn’s desk. Draco watched the potion splash happily, looking like leaping goldfish on the surface.

“Oho!” Slughorn cried out happily, ever the showman. “Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is the most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,” he turned to Hermione, “that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, I do. It’s liquid luck. It makes you lucky.”

The whole class sat up a little straighter, other than Tom who was already straight. Everyone looked interested, even Nott.

“Quite right, take another ten points for Ravenclaw. Yes, it’s a funny little potion, Felix Felicis,” Slughorn chuckled, looking fondly at the little pot of gold liquid. “Desperately tricky to make,” —very true. Draco had tried and failed— “and disastrous to get wrong.” — and it was. Draco was bald for a week and blind out of one eye for a month till he could get one of the Slytherin seventh years to put him right— “However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off.”

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” asked a Ravenclaw.

“Because taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence,” Slughorn gravely replied. “Too much of a good thing, you know…highly toxic in large qualities. But, taken sparingly and very occasionally…”

“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked the other Ravenclaw, who Draco was sure a member of Ginny’s fan club last year.

“Twice in my life,” Slughorn said. “Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days.”

He went dreamy before shaking his head to clear away the memories.

“And that, is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.”

Nott sat up even straighter, looking eager to start the lesson.

Draco bit back a groan, as the potion was hard. So hard, even Granger hadn’t gotten it…but, Potter had.

Why had Potter? He wasn’t good at Potions. How he had scrapped the acceptable—

He hadn’t. Potter hadn’t planned on taking the course. The Weasel and Potter had to borrow stuff that first lesson.

Draco wildly looked around for the spare books.

“Did you hear?” Hermione whispered, pulling on Draco’s sleeve. “He’s giving us one bottle of Felix Felicis, good enough for twelve hours of luck!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Draco absently muttered, eyes scanning till he found the bookshelf on the other side of the classroom. It looked as if it’d been forgotten about, between the dust and sagging shelves. Draco glanced around, then pushed his book on the floor and stomped on Tom’s foot. Tom shouted, elbowing Harry in the head on his way to the floor after tripping over his own feet. The elbow sent Harry flying head first into the potion on their table. Hermione screamed, leaping away before the love potion slopped over the side and hit her. During all this, Draco set his book on fire.

“What is going on?” Slughorn asked, hurrying over to clean up the mess.

Harry raised his head up out of the potion, looking rather dazed. Hermione stared in horror at all their belongings, now drenched in love potion. Tom picked himself up and eyed at Harry in trepidation.

“Miss Granger, you’ll want to clean up. Do you know a cleaning charm?”

“Professor, my book is all burnt. Might I get a new one?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, Mr Mallory,” Slughorn said, flapping his hand and not paying a bit of attention. “Now, Harry, son…”

Hermione waved her wand and cleaned the table up the best she could. Draco hurried over the bookshelf with the overload of books. While the class was distracted by Slughorn feeding Harry the antidote to the love potion, Draco searched for a book that stood out from the other beat up, stained, forgotten books. He glanced over his shoulder to find Harry now looking as if he was going to be sick and unable to look at anyone, even though he’d not had time to make a fool of himself like most people who ingested Amortentia did. The class had been working for a solid five minutes before Draco finally found a book that looked promising. The book was old, older than the other books. It had had multiple owners, but one had taken to writing all over in the book. Just glancing at the book quickly, Draco could tell the owner knew what he or she was doing. He hurried back to the table with the tattered book. As he sat down, Hermione (who smelled absurdly like violets and sandalwood) gave him a nasty look.

He must have gotten some of the Amortentia on his bare skin. Blast. Well, he could control himself till it wore off. Skin contact wasn’t as bad as if one ingested it.

“Was that called for?” Hermione hissed.

“Yes. Remembered something,” Draco whispered.

The room was quiet while everyone was working hard to work the assigned potion. Blueish steam began to fill the room as Draco turned to page ten and looked over what he’d need. He had most of what he needed in his own kit, so he didn’t have to waste time going through the student stores.

“You’re never going to finish,” Hermione hissed.

“Brilliant,” Draco whispered.

“What?” Hermione asked, pausing in her stirring. She was already at the ideal halfway stage the book spoke of, as her potion was “smooth, black currant-colored liquid.”

Draco began chopping roots.

“How can you even read the directions?” Hermione demanded, peering over his shoulder. “Isn’t there a book that’s not scribbled all over.”

Draco turned back to the book and stared at the writing, the first deviation from the actual directions.

“Brilliant, utterly brilliant,” Draco muttered, hurrying to crush his sopophorus bean with the side of his sliver knife.

“How did you…” Hermione trailed off, looking at the book closer. “You’re following the scribbling. Why?”

“Potter did,” Draco said. “He wasn't originally going to take Potions because Snape only takes people who get ‘Outstandings.’ He made perfect potions all year till after—”

Draco abruptly stopped talking. He blinked a few times.

“Till what?” Tom demanded.

“He started dating Ginny Weasley,” Draco lied, not really wanting to say what actually likely had happened. While he wasn’t really all there after their failed duel in the bathroom, Snape had been furious with how Potter had known that spell. Draco remembered that. It was after that, Potter had started to fail at Potions, performing as his track record would indicate.

Harry choked, sputtering and knocking over a bottle of something that smelled foul and Tom sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.

“Smash the bean with a knife,” Draco said, noticing Harry wasn’t as far as Hermione in his potion.

Harry instantly did it as instructed as soon as he’d cleaned up the smelly liquid, while Tom rolled his eyes.

“But the directions—” Hermione started.

“Are wrong,” both Tom and Draco said.

Tom scowled.

Seeing as Tom was farther along than Hermione, he took the book and flipped through it, scowling darkly.

“Why would he leave this behind?” Tom demanded.

“Who?” Harry asked, craning his neck to see what the book suggested next.

“Give me that,” Draco said, snatching the book from Tom.

Draco added the bean, then began the stirring, adding the clockwise with after every seventh counterclockwise stir.

Tom was doing the same thing, hissing the directions out of the side of his mouth to Harry. Hermione looked unsure, but followed along, gasping when it worked.

All around the room, other tables were all having trouble. No one else was anywhere near as close as their table at making perfect potions. Harry looked elated to have a potion go so easily for him, while Hermione looked unsure about not following the directions in the textbook.

“And time’s up!” Slughorn called out. “Stop stirring, please.”

Slughorn moved around the tables.

“He’s going to wonder why we all were so close,” Harry pointed out.

Draco glanced around. He grabbed up some random ingredients and threw them into his and Tom’s cauldrons. Tom appeared as if he was about to throttle Draco until his cauldron blew up in his face, covering him in failed potion.

Tragically, it did nothing to his pretty face.

“Draco!” Hermione hissed as Slughorn turned, frowning at Tom.

“What happened now?”

“Must have over stirred,” Tom lied, using his robe sleeve to dry his face off. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

Draco’s potion was bright pink.

“Makes yours a little darker,” Draco whispered to Hermione. “Stir backwards. His back is turned.”

Hermione bit her lip, but did as he asked, making hers a shade darker than it ought to be, but a good effort. She’d put her spoon away just in time. Slughorn was heading their way.

“Fine effort, Mr Riddle,” Slughorn lied, looking thrilled Tom had messed up so bad. “Don’t add so much root next time. Oh, and Mr Mallory, no rosemarie. Why did you even add that? Oh, Miss Granger, good effort! Good effort. The closest one I’ve seen so far. Maybe one less counterclockwise stir next time. Oh, Harry, m’boy! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent! She was a drab hand at Poitons, Lily was. A clear winner! Here you are, then, here you are— one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well.”

Harry took the tiny bottle and slipped it into his inner robe pocket, while looking delighted and generally bewildered. Draco glanced over at Nott, who was once again appeared as if he were simply a life-sized doll of Theodore Nott.

After class got out, Hermione snatched the book from Draco and began to furiously paw through it. Harry tried looking over her shoulder, but she kept turning to keep him from looking. He let out a huff.

“We can always do a handwriting spell to figure it out,” Harry suggested. “You know, if you’re so worried about whose book that was.”

“No need,” Tom said, folding his arms across is potion soaked chest. “That book belonged to Severus Snape.”

Hermione stopped flipping pages and turned to Tom, narrowing her eye. “How do you know?”

Tom snorted. “Honestly. He’s been grading your papers for the past six years. Can you not recognize his handwriting? It’s not changed all that much from when he was the owner of that book.”

Draco’s skin crawled. Leaning against the cold castle wall, he slid to the floor.

Snape had invented that spell? That spell that cut into his skin, made him bleed, and almost die on the floor of the girl’s loo? A spell Potter had gotten out of that book, the textbook in Hermione’s hands?

“I see it,” Hermione whispered, once again reading the book. “There’s someone else’s handwriting.”

Tom peered over Hermione’s shoulder, nodding. “That would be Addy’s. She was his partner till the spring of sixth year. Slughorn always assigns the same potion as his opener for NEWTs. They would have worked on this together. The counterclockwise stirs were her suggestions, see.”

“But isn’t she dismal at Potions?” Draco faintly asked, looking up at Tom’s looming figure.

“Yes. But, she is the daughter of a Potion Mistress. Some of the knowledge sunk in,” Tom said. “Just wasn’t able to…”

Tom flapped his hand around.

“Severus Snape,” Hermione breathed. “The Half-Blood Prince?”

“Oh,” Tom said, his eyes going wide. “That is who his mother was.”

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“The Prince girl. She was a few years behind me. I heard she’d run off with a Muggle,” Tom said, then added, “From Regulus. When they were trying to figure out if there were any living Princes left for Voldemort to try to take out. One of the Princes…was a horcrux death. Regulus and his father believed it was due to the daughter marrying a Muggle, even though they disowned her.”

Hermione made a face of distaste.

“It would make sense he’d want to make public that side of his bloodline with his being in Slytherin,” Harry quietly said.

“Oh yes,” Tom agreed. “Being a half-blood Prince would be better than being just a half-blood. The Princes were one of the old pureblood families. Not as old as the Blacks, but almost.”

“Older than the Malfoys,” Draco added.

“Why are you on the floor?” Harry asked.

“Hush,” Hermione chided, putting a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Well, it’s your book now, as you burnt yours. And you ought to apologize to Harry for soaking him in Amortentia.”

She handed him the book. Draco carefully took it. He’d have to find that spell and black it out so no one could find it. The only person he’d ever witness cast it was Potter in times of distress, so clearly Snape hadn’t shared it with anyone else.

“Sorry, Harry, but I had to get the book,” he apologized.

“It’s fine. Uh, it wasn’t that bad till Slughorn gave me the antidote. I mean, I didn’t do or say anything for the two minutes I was under,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck and not looking at Tom. Tom was also looking anywhere but at Harry.

Draco clutched the book to his chest and slowly got to his feet. Harry began pondering out loud what he ought to do with his lucky potion. Tom had a few suggestions he was more than willing to share that had to do with fighting Voldemort. Hermione glanced at Draco once, before grabbing his hand and squeezing hard.

Only she failed to let go as they began to walk towards Gryffindor Tower.

Draco’s heart soared and stuttered in his chest, while his nose was totally full of violets, sandalwood, and old books.

He was sure he was still under the influence of the Amortentia that had slashed on his hand.


	9. Kept Some Things Back

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Parts come from _Halfblood Prince_ by JKR. **

* * *

“It won’t look good if we’re all suddenly brilliant at Potions,” Hermione grumbled, not looking pleased with the results the book’s directions yielded after their second class.

Draco agreed, which was why he didn’t follow the directions exactly as Snape had written. He preferred Slunghorn fawning over Harry, who followed the hand written word for word. (In Slughorn’s world when Tom made a perfect potion, he didn’t exist. And because he was Tom Riddle, he always made a perfect potion even without using Snape’s old schoolbook.)

Friday afternoon saw the release of Addy Black, or as she was known Adelaide Lupin. (Draco was pleased Addison had been rejected.) They all went down after their classes on Friday to see her off. She looked vastly different, well, to everyone save Draco. When they entered her bleak little hospital room, she was staring in a mirror pulling at various parts of her face with sick fascination. She heard them enter and said, “This is so surreal. Like, I know it’s my face, but it’s not what I’m used to seeing.”

“You were able to see yourself through the glowing white?” Tom asked.

“I learned to filer that out eons ago,” she replied, flapping her free hand at Tom. “Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes,” Draco whispered.

Dumbledore had amplified the Black aspects of her appearance and hidden the Lupin ones with her glamors. Now, her nose was different— longer and a little wider. Her lips were thinner, cheekbones not as pronounced, but most of all her amber eyes were back along with her curly raven hair. In the short style she sported, the curls looked rather strange, as if they weren’t sure which direction to go.

“This haircut had seemed like such a good idea when I got it,” Addy muttered. “Oh, well. Live and learn.”

She turned towards the four teenagers and smiled brightly. Tom appeared as if he wasn’t sure how to respond, but managed to sort of smile back. Harry and Hermione both looked like they were thought they were intruding on a family moment.

“Well, come here you idiot,” Addy said, holding her arms wide.

Tom looked as if he wasn’t going to step into them, but Harry pushed him solidly between the shoulder blades and his gangly teenage limbs failed to be graceful so he toppled into her arms.

“See, not so bad,” Addy said, thumping him on the back solidly. “Ah, the sound of a chest cavity!”

Tom made a noise of protest, yet didn’t pull away from the embrace. She didn’t hold on too long, though, pushing Tom away and swatting at his hair playfully. He looked furious as he smoothed it back into place.

“Don’t be a stranger. I’ll be at Lupin’s till I find a new place.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t kick him out,” Addy began.

“Why can’t you stay there?”

“I can’t sta—”

“Yes, you can,” said a new voice from behind them.

They all turned to see Remus Lupin enter the room, closing followed by Sirius Black, who looked as if Christmas had arrived early.

“It is your flat,” Lupin went on. “It went back into your name when you ceased to be dead.”

“But, you have to stay there!” Addy cried, looking horrified. “The laws…you…”

“I’m not going to move out,” Lupin assured, moving through the group of teenagers to his old friend. He placed a hand on her shoulder, hitching a corner of his mouth up a little. “I figured I would simply move into the black hole upstairs.”

Addy groaned, slapping her hand over her face. “Tell me you at least made him clean it up after all these years?”

“I did,” Lupin said. “I’ve moved up there. While my bank account is quite empty, I will find some way to provide for the household.”

“You don’t—”

“Hush. We’ll figure the details out later.”

“You’ll love my cleaning job. I even changed the paint color,” Sirius announced loudly.

“You what?”

“Don’t tell me you liked the black paint?”

“Well, no, but we’re Blacks!”

“Actually, you’re a Lupin,” Sirius pointed out. “We all know your dirty little secret!”

Addy sighed, rolling her eyes. “It wasn’t a dirty secret. Just one I didn’t think you needed hear as a sixteen-year-old. I kind of told you when I met you, remember?”

Sirius made a noise Draco had never heard that kind of sounded like, “pish” and flapped his hand at her in a strange manner that made Addy roll her eyes again.

“But,” she turned back to Lupin, “won’t…don’t you…I can’t just replace her.”

“Oh, you won’t, Addy,” Lupin said, looking serious. “No one will ever replace my daughter. Even my…daughter from another timeline.”

Addy studied him carefully. It must have been so strange to look at her, seeing her as she really was, meeting eyes that Lupin saw in the mirror. Draco wasn’t sure how Lupin was handling it, but Sirius looked as if his eyes were going to bug out and roll across the floor

“I’m your friend first, Lupin,” Addy pointed out. “This version of you is my friend, one of my good friends, one I care about a great deal, but I don’t need a dad. I’m…old.”

“Not as old as I,” Lupin pointed out.

“True. You’re finally older than me!”

Lupin gave her a tried look.

“Great! Let’s go,” Sirius said, jumping up and down like an anxious puppy.

“Okay, okay. Keep your hat on,” Addy laughed. “Well, you lot. Don’t get in too much trouble. And come see me for at Christmas, okay? I’d love to get to know y’all, okay?”

They all nodded.

“Except Tom. I don’t really wanna know him,” Addy joked.

Tom threw a pen at her head. She ducked and laughed. Her laughter didn’t die out till the adults all Flooed away.

“She’s so different from Atlanta,” Hermione whispered, pressing into Draco’s side. “Even the little girl she was before…her run in with Voldemort in 1943. I mean…she’s…”

“They are very different,” Draco agreed. “They had very different childhoods. Addy had lots more pureblood breeding, while Atlanta was a little more…carefree due to being raised mostly by Lupin. Addy didn’t meet Lupin until she was a child, not from birth.”

“Lupin knew Atlanta from birth?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “Hilderbatch wrote to Dumbledore after Atlanta’s birth and told him who the father was. She’d already had Lupin employed as a nanny, though. Dumbledore called him to England on Order business and told him. He spent the night getting drunk at the flat, then went off the next morning back to his job raising his daughter who he now knew was named as he’d wished. It was not just a happy coincidence.”

“Sounds like a soap opera,” Hermione muttered. “Well, it’s almost time for dinner. Let’s go.”

* * *

As time wore on, free periods began to resemble less free time and more time to do mountains of homework. The vast amounts they were assigned seemed to Draco to be ten times more than before, but then again, he hadn’t actually bothered the first time.

“Should we be worried about Nott?” Harry asked one night as they sat at the Brooding Table going through piles of homework.

“Worried how?” Draco muttered trying to work on his Ancient Runes.

“He is fixing that cabinet, right?” Hermione asked. “Shouldn’t we try to thwart him?”

“No,” Tom said, twirling his wand between his long fingers while writing with the other hand. “Here. Does this look like Dumbledore’s hand?”

Tom shoved one of the books he had been reading (he had ten books open and seemed to be reading them all) at Harry, who stopped what he was doing and peered. His facial reaction was classic disgust and he nodded. Tom took the book back, looking at it with new interest as his wand began to move faster, green sparks flying out the end.

“Will you stop that before you set me on fire?” Draco demanded, trying to move away.

“I will not set you on fire,” Tom drawled, but stopped twirling his wand.

“What does the book say? What is the curse?” Hermione asked, rolling up the essay she’d completed. She offered it to Draco, who took it, unrolling it to see what her translations came out to be and how far off he was. “Is it curable?”

“No.”

“Well, what is it?” Draco impatiently asked.

“ _Bothroangis Putrescat_ , or a type of spell to mimic a certain type of asper snake,” Tom said, scowling deeply at the book as if it’d insulted him. “It’s quite complex and very…dark. There are only a handful of cases since wizards started keeping records. It’s rather obscure, mostly because it must be casted in Pasrseltounge. There is a counter curse, but it must be cast within five minutes of getting cursed and also must be cast in Parseltounge. Other than that, the only way to live long enough to get your affairs in order is to halt the curse, to contain it the wherever the…bite occurred.”

“Does it say bite?” Harry asked, leaning over to look at the book.

“Yes,” Tom flatly said. “Because it was likely Snape who performed the counter curse to contain the bite, Dumbledore will likely last longer than these people.”

“How long did they last?” Hermione asked, quietly putting down the huge book she had picked up.

“Six months at most,” Tom flatly said, glancing out over the Common Room gloomily. “I’d give him a year. It’ll spread slowly from where Snape contained it in his hand to his heart and turn it as black as his hand.”

“Once it’s free it’ll rapidly spread?” Hermione asked.

Tom nodded. “Unless Snape is on hand to halt it again. All he will do is prolong Dumbledore’s life and the further the curse gets towards his heart, the harder it’ll be for him to maintain normalcy.”

“He asked Snape to kill him,” Draco realized bleakly. “He said _please_.”

All three looked at him in surprise. Hermione was the first to catch on and grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together. Draco was so horrified and caught up in his own memories of that terrible night, he failed to notice.

“He was pleading. Snape…Snape pushed us out of the way. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see Dumbledore. He pleaded…I thought for Snape to save him, but…he was pleading for him to kill him. He kept falling. He was weak. The curse…”

Draco felt Hermione’s arm come around him and pull him sideways. He went easily, mind whirling.

“What were you doing on the roof?” Tom inquired.

“Dumbledore had gone out. He did a lot that year, never told anyone what he was doing. He took Potter that night. I don’t know where Potter was, though,” Draco said, speaking on autopilot. “I’d put Rosemerta under the Imperius Curse, she told me when he’d come and go. I used enchanted coins. I forgot about that. There was a rumor that’s how Dumbledore’s Army communicated. I used the same thing. I forgot.”

“It’s all right,” Hermione hushed him, her fingers somehow in his hair. Draco’s eyes were unseeing, so he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get where he was or where Tom and Harry had gone. 

“He was weak,” Draco repeated. “He kept slipping down the rampart he was leaning against. Like his feet didn’t work.”

“Where might they have gone?” Tom inquired in a clinical tone.

“Horcrux hunting?” Harry offered. “That might also be why he was weak?”

Tom snorted. “Do you think Dumbledore would have taken Potter along to find and destroy a horcrux?”

“Why not?” Harry challenged.

Tom made a strange noise. “He keeps secrets. His secrets have secrets and he never puts them all in one—oh. He knew he was dying.”

“So he put the horcrux secret in Harry’s basket,” Hermione said, her fingers doing strange things to Draco’s head.

“Potter was on the roof,” Draco realized through the strange haze he’d fallen. “Dumbledore made me tell him everything. Everything I’d done all year. And I told him so I wouldn’t have to…so I wouldn’t…”

“Exactly. He was stalling you because he wished for Potter to know—”

“No,” Hermione cut Tom off. “He was stalling so Snape could get there.”

Draco sucked in a deep breath and sat up. Hermione let him go with some resistance. He took her hand under the table, using the other one to straightened out his hair a little.

“She’s right. While I do believe Potter must have been on the roof with us under the Cloak, Dumbledore was stalling for time. Because…”

“If you didn’t kill him, Snape had to or he’d die due to the Unbreakable Vow he made with your mother,” Hermione finished.

“Do you think anyone made such a vow for Nott?” Draco asked, feeling a little sorry for Nott. Draco had had his mother— his fiercely protective and loving mother— to look out for him, to make plans if he failed. Would there be anyone to do so for Nott? As far as Draco knew, the only parent Nott had was currently rotting in Azkban till this summer when Voldemort would further move out into the open— unless they did something drastic this year.

“Dumbledore will die,” Tom stated flatly. “This is a fact. No matter what Nott does, Dumbledore will die, be it at the end of a wand or from the curse. If it were me, I’d rather go at the end of a wand.”

“How could—”

Tom pushed the book at Hermione, who jerked away, taking Draco with her. Draco didn’t want to know how ghastly and horrid a death by the curse would be.

“Dumbledore’s death leads to Voldemort gaining power,” Harry quietly pointed out. “Yet, you’re trying to tell me it’s happening no matter what?”

“Yes,” Tom replied flatly. “It’s likely one of those blasted fixed points. As is the Death Eaters getting into Hogwarts via the fixed Vanishing Cabinet. Nott will fix it. While he’s not as competent as Draco, he’s not a total moron.”

“Thank you for that high compliment,” Draco drawled dryly, trying to return to a state of normal.

“You’re welcome,” Tom snarked. “What we must do, though, is to be prepared for the invasion. There were members of the Order here, but there needs to be more. Many more. And the students must be prepared.”

“How on Earth do you plan to prepare students?” Hermione asked.

Tom’s blue-blue eyes sparkled in the dim lighting cast by the fireplace and candles in the Common Room. One side of his mouth hitched up and he looked as if he was up to no good.

“Why, I’m going to restart the Muggle Chess club, only I think I’ll call it Dueling Club. What do you think?”

“I think that’s brilliant,” Hermione agreed.

“A proper dueling club? Not like the one Lockhart started, right?” Harry asked.

Tom made a face of disgust. “Of course a proper one. I’ll speak to McGonagall tomorrow. I’m sure Dumbledore will approve. Best have his students prepared.”

Tom nodded sagely before standing up and abandoning them. Harry quickly got up and followed, leaving both their belongings behind and Draco alone with Hermione.

Who he was still holding hands with under the table.

Oh.

“Draco?”

“Mmm?” Draco asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“None of that was on the parchment,” she quietly pointed out.

“Some of it I just realized,” Draco reminded her. “And the rest…didn’t really want to think it was important.”

“It was very lonely for you that year, wasn’t it?”

“And the year after,” Draco admitted. “Crabbe and Goyle were a little too pleased with the new direction the school took. I…not so much.”

Hermione nodded, loosening her fingers. Draco regretfully let go. Hermione began to gather her belongings.

“Well, I best be heading to bed.”

Draco stared at her and felt some an overwhelming need for her not to leave. Ever.

“Next Hogsmeade weekend, would you go with me—?” Draco didn’t finish asking, as he didn’t know where to take her. Where did people go on dates?

Wait, he wanted to go on a date with her?

Yes. He did and it had nothing to do with Amortentia, as he’d not been splashed with any recently.

“Just us? No Harry or Tom?”

Draco nodded. “You best pick somewhere. I doubt you’d enjoy Madam Pettifoots.”

Hermione curled her nose. “Correct. Um…okay. Yes. Till then, what will we do?”

“I…I…I…”

Hermione smiled at him indulgently. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and shook her head.

“Boys. Hopeless, the lot of you. Meet me in the library tomorrow morning before breakfast, okay? Just you.”

Hermione gave him a very stern look before departing. Draco felt himself smiling and he had no idea really why— other than he was happy.

That had been a lot easier than he thought.

* * *

When Draco reached the dormitory (which was more crowded than before due to the addition of an extra, if usually unused, bed), Tom was waiting for him with a large smirk painting his fine features.

“What?” Draco asked flatly.

Tom’s smirked morphed into a full on smile and he said nothing, just swung himself into Harry’s bed and slammed the curtains shut. Draco stood dumbly in the dormitory for a solid minute before shaking his head and getting ready for bed himself. He got into bed, shut the curtains, and lay there, mind whirling a million miles an hour.

He hardly slept and was a jittery mess by the next morning. Draco scolded himself mentally, as he’d done this kind of thing before: meeting before class for some time alone. He’d met more than one girl before the start of sixth year when he didn’t have time for such things. Granted, it was Pansy more often than not, but still. He had experience. He wasn’t some stupid teenager who’d never kissed a girl before, never spent an afternoon doing some in depth exploration of another’s mouth instead of studying.

Yet, on some level, Draco knew this was so much different and had nothing to do with that it was technically his first time doing those things in the body he was currently utilizing.

This was Hermione Granger.

She was his best friend. She knew him better than even his mother. Hermione had guessed his secret when he’d never told anyone (Harry didn’t count as he’d not believed him). She’d comforted him, she encouraged him, and now she smiled at him as he’d always wanted her to.

Okay.

There.

He’d done it.

He’d admitted he always wanted Hermione Granger, no matter the timeline, to notice him passed what he put out there for the world. He had since before he’d seen her on the arm of Krum fourth year. The moment he’d realized that was Granger, he knew he was doomed, well more doomed. It was the reason for his pulling girls left and right for the next two years till larger things distracted him.

He’d liked Granger.

Sure he was horrified by her hair sometimes and he liked it when her teeth had been cursed and she’d finally gotten them fixed, but it was that know-it-all personality that got him as an eleven-year-old. He’d been horrified to find out she was Muggleborn. It was bad enough she’d sorted into Gryffindor, but to be a Muggleborn on top of it?

Doomed.

Also, as an eleven-year-old he’d no idea what to do with his feelings towards the girl, so he’d harassed her worse than he’d bullied Harry Potter. Even after seeing her at the Yule Ball, he didn’t allow himself to really realize why he was acting as he was.

Now, though, he could think about it and registered he’d always had more than friendly feeling for Hermione Granger.

“What’s with you? You look like you’re…going through drug withdrawal,” Dean Thomas remarked the next morning, eyeing Draco with minor concern as he fumbled with his robe fasteners and failed to get them to work. Upon getting confused looks from Tom, Neville, and Seamus Finnigan, Dean added, “Mum made me take a course over the summer on the horrors of illegal drugs, since they don’t do that kind of thing here. It was…”

He shuddered.

“He’s got a date,” Tom remarked from the other side of the room.

Draco had enough coordination to chuck a book at Tom’s head, forgetting for a moment it’d not go through like it used to. Tom had also forgotten this fact, as the book hit him square in the forehead, leaving behind an angry red mark in the center of his pale forehead. Both boys were so shocked they simply gaped at one another till Harry snorted.

“Sorry,” Harry quickly apologized since two people in the dormitory didn’t know that Tom had not always been a solid, living being but in fact something that books would fly through. “Anyway, enjoy whatever! Tell me later. Come on, Tom.”

Rubbing his forehead, Tom gave Draco one last smirk before he vanished with Harry.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean Thomas said, slapping Draco on the back. “Just don’t let her know you don’t know what you’re doing. Take your cues from her and she’ll think you’re amazing.”

Finnigan snorted. “You talk like you’re some sort of Casanova.”

“You know who that is?” Thomas asked, turning to face his friend. “He’s a Muggle.”

Draco and Finnigan both snorted, shaking their heads in the negative.

“He was a wizard,” Finnigan said. “Used a lot of magic to lure all those woman into his bed, didn’t he? Potions, charms, that kind of thing.”

Thomas threw his arms in to the air and left muttering about all the greats turning out to be wizards. Finnigan followed leaving Neville and Draco alone.

“I’ve got no advice,” Neville said, cheeks turning pink.

“Good. I do not need any advice from hormonal teenagers,” Draco muttered.

Neville shook his head. “Of course not. You’ve already this whole dating thing, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good. You’ll be a great help if I ever decide to date,” Neville said, smiling brightly. He clapped Draco on the shoulder and left.

Giving up on fastening his robes properly, Draco stalked off to the library. He arrived, his stomach in knots, to find Hermione hidden behind a pile of books at a table in a dusty, but brightly lit corner. She heard him approached, looking up with a smile.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Draco managed to respond.

Hermione smirked as she took in the sight of him. She patted the chair next to her and Draco took a seat. She continued to smile and went back to studying. Draco felt awkward and sat unmoving till he turned towards her with a question on his lips, but stopped the moment he caught sight of her.

She must have positioned herself here for a reason, he realized it. The sunlight…oh god. Her hair…

“You’re staring,” Hermione chided gently.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re spending quality time together,” Hermione stated, flipping a page in her book. “Did you have another idea on how to spend time together?”

Draco had had a few, but shook his head in the negative. Hermione slid a book to him and gave him a knowing look. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Draco opened the book she’d pushed towards him, realizing it was the Ancient Runes textbook. Sighing, he started to read the section she’d helpfully highlighted for him that would hopefully aid him in where he was getting tripped up in his translations.

Not exactly how he imagined a first date (or whatever) with Hermione, but he should have known.


	10. Always Dragging That Horse Around

_A/N: 27 July 2015 - Hello. Remember me? I sure hope you do and I do apologize for taking a month to get this to you. I’ve really got no excuse other than when I sat down to work on editing these next chapters, I decided to work on two WIPs I’ve got going. But I remembered my Kindle went I went to the gym this AM and got four chapters edited, so posting shall continue regularly. Hopefully._

* * *

 

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

Nonverbal spells were expected of the sixth years in all classes where they did spell work. Draco did fine except in DADA, which was still a challenge to get the spells right without using his voice.

“You know, using ones voice to power spells gives it power, sometimes,” Hermione offered after one especially hard lesson. “There is power in speech. Maybe you’ve got some of that and that’s why you’re having such trouble with the DADA spells, as they have more emotions behind them than Charms or Transfiguration spells.”

Draco frowned.

“Atlanta and Addy have a certain power behind their words,” Tom offered. “Atlanta more so than Addy. Addy, while having this power, never honed it to the extent that Atlanta did. Didn’t you ever notice if she sang, people reacted?”

“Yes,” Harry quickly said. “That was magic?”

Tom nodded, shifting through his school bag on their way to the Tower.

“Yes. I wrote a paper on it, actually. It was never published,” Tom complained, letting out an annoyed noise as he failed to find what he was looking for. “I had theories that Muggles also had the power, as I believe that all peoples have some measure of magic, it is just something in our DNA that allow us to access it where Muggles don’t. It explains Muggleborns.”

Hermione stared at Tom with large eyes.

“But, that’s not my area of expertise, so one really wanted to publish it, nor was there enough evidence to really back up my claims. Wizards don’t research DNA and such. And I didn’t really have the access to various people to do such research as a Not Ghost. I must return to Professor Vector’s classroom. I’ve misplaced my notes.”

Without further ado, Tom turned and stomped off.

“Fascinating,” Hermione muttered.

“Well, at least you can do spells in Transfiguration and Charms,” Harry said loudly to Draco. “I can’t do any.”

Harry was one of the many sixth years who spent his free time looking as if he had overdosed on U-No-Poo while trying to get non-verbal spells to work.

“And now I’ve got to worry about being Quidditch Captain on top of all this,” Harry went on. “Tryouts are tomorrow. I might be sick.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Hermione asked as they entered the Great Hall.

“Yeah.”

Harry was channeling his fourth year self with the shade of green he was turning.

“I was going to suggest we go see Hagrid. We’ve not had the time and he’s stopped coming to meals,” Hermione said, motioning to the empty spot at the Head Table where Hagrid’s large form was MIA.

“Why’d he stop coming?” Harry wondered, as they sat down at the table.

“Likely because none of us took Care of Magical Creatures. Did anyone in our year continue on?”

“Neville,” Draco instantly said. Harry and Hermione both stared at Draco as if he’d lost his mind. “What? He did. He likes it.”

“I still have nightmares about skrewts,” Harry muttered darkly. “And who knows what he’d want us to do about Grawp.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly teach him English,” Hermione reminded Harry. “I hate not talking to Hagrid.”

“We’ll go down after Quidditch,” Harry assured her. “But, trials might take all morning. Have you seen the list?”

Harry pulled out a two foot long parchment filled with names of those who wished to tryout for Gryffindor.

“I hate being popular.”

Draco snorted.

“I’m serious. Not all of these people are all serious about Quidditch. They just want to ogle me.”

“Well, you did grow two inches,” Hermione sweetly offered.

“Finally. I’m still short. I’m as tall as you.”

“I’m average for a female,” Hermione teased.

Harry pouted.

“If you were any taller then you’d suck at a Seeker,” Draco felt the need to point out. “Five foot five is about the limit. Any taller and it throws everything off and you get too heavy.”

Harry grumbled, but didn’t outright complain.

“Well, just suck it up. You’re more interesting than usual and you’ve never been more fanciable,” Hermione blithely said.

Harry choked on the large piece of chicken he’d just bitten into.

“Everyone knows you were telling the truth, don’t they?” Hermione went on as if Harry hadn’t almost suffered Death By Chicken Leg at the dinner table. “The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you’re right that Marv is back and that you’ve fought him twice in the past two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’— well, come on, can’t you see why people would fancy you?”

“I am the Chosen One,” Harry snarked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “They don’t know that, though, do they?”

“I can tell them.”

“You best not,” Tom said, appearing next to Harry and taking his seat at the table. “Make your fans even more rabid.”

Harry gave Tom a dark look and kicked him under the table. Tom grunted.

“Did you find your notes?”

Tom nodded. “So, are you looking forward to running tryouts?”

“I noticed you didn’t put your name down,” Harry teased, elbowing Tom in the side. “Oh, come on. Don’t you wanna join my fan club?”

Tom choked on his own spit and stared at Harry.

Hermione giggled.

Draco wanted to be elsewhere.

* * *

The next morning after breakfast, Draco grabbed his broom and headed to the pitch. He was joined by half of Gryffindor house, plus some people who weren’t even in Gryffindor.

“Urg. McLaggen is trying again,” Ginny complained, coming to stand next to Draco. “Oh, and thanks for letting me keep this.”

She held up Draco’s former Firebolt. He shrugged. “It serves you better than me.”

“It reset itself finally,” she admitted. “I don’t think it wanted to let you go.”

Draco snorted. “If you say so. I’ll stick with my Nimbus 2001.”

While the Firebolt was a great broom, Draco preferred the Nimbus line. The Firebolt had too much power for Draco’s liking and turned too quickly.

Upon getting rid of the people who weren’t actually in Gryffidnor, Harry set the lot of them flying in a basic test around the pitch once. Ginny and Draco were in the first group to finish, but quite a few failed to make it around once. There was a group of first years who didn’t know how to fly yet, one boy crashed straight into the goal post, and another girl flew straight into the stands as she clearly didn’t know or understand one had to steer. There was also a group of silly girls who merely giggled, clutching one another and not flying anywhere. There was a group that had a major pileup half way around and never managed to untangle themselves.

Harry dismissed all these people and kept the group who made it around without crashing.

It still took another two hours, and a lot of complaints and a few tantrums, but Harry had himself a team. Draco had been made a Chaser (finally), along with Katie Bell, and Ginny Weasley (who seemed massively pleased to not be a Seeker and Draco knew the feeling). The Beaters weren’t as impressive or as brilliant as Fred and George, but they were better than Draco. Jimmy Peaks, a third year who’d managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on Harry’s head, and Ritchie Coote, a weedy boy who had great aim with a bat. Keeper was returned to Jake Sloper, who hadn’t actually out goal tended McLaggen, but no one wanted a repeat of last year.

When McLaggen put up a fight, Harry shouted, “That’s my final decision and if you don’t get out of the way, I’ll hex you!”

McLaggen appeared as if he was going to continue to fight till he realized the entire stadium was still filled with the people who’d been rejected and it was silent. So, he stalked off the pitch.

Draco headed towards where Hermione was waiting, noticing the gaggle of giggling girls eyeing him for some reason. He gave them a strange look as he met Hermione. He threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and kissed her temple, before steering her away to wait for Harry outside the stadium.

“You didn’t stay long enough to find out the first practice,” Hermione pointed out.

“Harry will tell me,” Draco said.

“You could have your own fan club,” Hermione gently teased.

“I don’t want a fan club.”

Hermione chuckled as Harry caught up to them.

“We’re meeting on Thursday,” he said to Draco, narrowing his eyes. “You know it doesn’t look very good for me if you run off before we’re done.”

“Sorry,” Draco drawled. “I didn’t enjoy the looks your fans were giving me.”

“No, you just wanted to run off with your girlfriend,” Harry grumbled, stomping off.

Draco colored and glanced at Hermione. She looked completely normal, except for the small smile on her lips as she drifted off almost dreamily after Harry. Feeling embarrassed but pleased, Draco followed.

* * *

Remus sighed, kneading the space between his eyes where a headache was forming. While not unfamiliar with headaches leading to the full moon, he was in the middle of the moon cycle and knew this headache was born from dealing with TR DeVinette’s mail. While he’d been acting as Tom’s secretary for years (especially after Atlanta had begun school full time), it seemed recently more fanatics had come out. He’d had his fifteenth Howler of the day explode from the pile. He wished they’d all explode at the same time instead of going off every hour.

“Wow, this is a clinically white room.”

Remus looked up from his desk and saw Addy standing in the doorway, looking rumbled as if she’d just woken, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. In the past weeks since she’d returned to the flat, she’d never ventured up to the second floor where Remus lived.

“I noticed you’ve installed a kitchen.”

“Yes, well the bedroom was annoyingly large,” Remus offered. “I don’t need this much room plus another one really.”

He motioned around the office, which he realized was clinically white like a hospital room. He’d not really thought about it when he’d stripped the room of the lime green paint. He’d meant to magic up another color, but he’d simply gotten caught up in keeping TR DeVinette alive and well whilst Tom was off being a Hogwarts student.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need the entire flat downstairs to myself,” Addy gently said, reminding him he’d not set foot downstairs since he’d returned from the empty field in Scotland where he suffered the moon. “Anyway, I’m not here to bother you about avoiding socialization, but rather to ask you a favor.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, turning around in the chair to face her.

“Yeah. You can say no if you want, but I’d like to train my voice.”

Remus knitted his eyebrows together.

“I saw the whole voice magic when I met Calliope Riddle,” Addy said carefully and quietly. “She wasn’t actively even using it when the three of us hung out in that music room, but there was still magic pouring out of her mouth.”

“That’s why…”

“I suggested gently you train up your daughter so she’d become Calliope Riddle?” Atlanta cringed. “Yeah, kinda. I don’t have that power, but the potential’s there and I…I wanna scream at Voldemort and I want him to feel it in his bones.”

Remus pushed himself away from the desk and braced his hands on his knees. He studied the woman standing in the doorway. It was bizarre and weird to know on some level that biologically, he was this woman’s father and yet the relationship his other self had had with the woman was vastly different from the relationship he’d known with his version of his daughter.

And that was thanks to Addy. He’d never really thought about how he’d wound up being Atlanta’s nanny and tutor. Circe Hilderbatch had only heard Remus liked the name because Addy’s death was proclaimed and on the front page of the paper he’d been reading that morning. He’d only wound up taking an active part in the child’s life because he’d happen to be at the werewolf sanctuary at that precise time and he’d only been there because, well, because he had no where to go after he and Sirius broke up and felt the need to avoid everyone.

“Did I spend anytime at the sanctuary during the war the first time? During your timeline?”

Addy made a face he was coming to realize was her Oops-I-Changed-the-Timeline-Again face.

“I might have hinted to Dumbledore you would do some good recruiting there more so than wherever he had sent you originally,” Atlanta admitted. “I mean, he didn’t send you there till after I was dead, but still. I think you didn’t meet my mom until I was older, when you turned up after hearing about it through the grapevine about the family needing a tutor and getting enough money together to make the journey.”

“Thank you,” Remus breathed. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

Addy frowned.

“I’m serious. You didn’t know…you didn’t know she’d die, or we’d be unable to really fix what was wrong with her when you met her.”

“I knew she was going to be tortured by Moldy Trousers.”

“That was already a fixed event when you met her,” Remus pointed out. “You simply assured she had the tools to survive the ordeal and return.”

Addy shifted uncomfortably.

“Atlanta,” Remus said, using her given name, “I was with my daughter from shortly after her birth until her last day on this Earth. All because of you and Draco.”

Addy looked up at him sharply.

“I am serious,” Remus insisted. “I raised my daughter, I knew her well, I saw her grow into a gorgeous person.”

Atlanta gave him a sad look.

“I know she never got to be a woman, and I know she…she was so strong, Addy. Whatever was dealt towards her, she conquered it. I have no doubt she tried to conquer death in her own way.”

“She went out singing,” Addy said quietly. “I pieced that together from what the others were able to tell me. But…it makes sense.”

Remus snorted. “That is does. Before…before Voldemort…she sang all the time. Constantly to the annoyance of some.”

“I got the feeling,” Addy softly murmured. “I know it’s kind of lame to say if she can do then I can, but technically…if she could, I can.”

“She had eleven years of training,” Remus pointed out. “If things go as planned, we’ll be facing Voldemort in some form this summer, or maybe next.”

“Yeah, I know,” Addy said, flopping her arms to the side and looking at a loss, “but, I want to try. And, well, you’re the only musical person I know.”

Remus stared at her blankly.

“Unless you’ve forgotten how to play the piano,” Addy added, looking horrified at the thought.

“No, I’ve not forgotten.”

“I haven’t heard you play since…1977. Or ’78.”

Remus snorted. “I’ve not played since Atlanta died, but this is a good as anytime to begin again. I do need a break from Tom’s hate mail.”

“He still gets hate mail? God, the guy hasn’t gotten any likable since he met Harry?”

Remus chortled humorously. “Tragically, no. He keeps all that niceness for Harry alone and continues to thrust his horrible persona on the world.”

Remus stood up, cracking his knuckles, then stretching his stiff fingers. Addy bounced a few times in the doorway before charging off towards the piano in the hall. Remus had always wondered why she and Tom had had an expensive, rather lovely, piano installed upstairs where neither of them lived, yet after Atlanta had moved in, Remus had a feeling it had been up there for them.

“Where are we gonna start?” Atlanta asked, looking at the black and white keys greedily.

“With scales. I need to figure out your range,” Remus said, sitting down on the bench. It magically adjusted to his height, getting lower signaling that Atlanta had been the last to play. He stared at the sheet music that had been gathering dust for the past few months. He leaned closer when he noticed it was handwritten sheet music.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Addy proclaimed. “Let’s do this thing.”

Remus shook his head, gathering up the sheet music to peruse at a later date.

* * *

After a lovely meeting with Hagrid (who was only slightly sore about the fact Harry and Hermione had both dropped Care of the Magical Creatures and only Neville was taking the NEWT level course), Harry took off for his detention with Snape leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

“Where’s Tom?” Draco asked.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” Hermione admitted. “Now—”

Before Hermione could say what she wished, Slughorn appeared.

“Hermione! Hermione! Just the woman I wished to find. I was hoping to catch you before dinner, did I?”

“Yes,” Hermione hedged.

They’d had “food” at Hagrid’s. Harry had run off to stuff his face before detention and Draco had been looking for to a quiet meal with Hermione alone since Tom had gone MIA.

“Good, good. We’re having just a small little spot of supper in my rooms tonight. I’ve got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, oh, and the charming Melina Bobbin— I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries. Can I count on your attendance, Miss Granger?”

Slughorn swept Hermione a little bow, which made her cheeks turn pink.

It was as if Draco was invisible. He rolled his eyes upward and dropped his arm from where it was around Hermione’s waist.

“Oh, uh…well,” Hermione paused looking over at Draco. He nodded his head and moved away from her so Slughorn could sweep her off to his rooms for the “spot of supper.”

Draco headed in alone to the Great Hall and found Neville and Tom, who was silent throughout the meal yet was wearing a self-satisfied smirk.

“Okay,” Draco said, setting down his fork and knife, “why are you looking so smug.”

“Hmmmm?” Tom looked up, attempting to appear innocent and failing.

Neville glanced between the two.

“What were you doing all day? You didn’t show up at the Quidditch tryouts to support your boyfriend,” Draco goaded.

Tom narrowed his eyes, but said nothing against what Draco had just referred to Harry as.

Interesting.

“I was putting together a Dueling Club. I spoke with Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape.”

“Snape?” Neville squeaked.

Tom gave Neville a tired look. “Besides Dumbledore and Flitwick, he’s the best dueler here.”

“Oh, you’re not counting yourself?”

“No, there is much for me to learn,” Tom admitted easily. “They’ve both agreed to supervise and we drew up the sign up sheets and found a meeting area.”

“Wouldn’t you meet here?” Neville asked, indicating to the Great Hall.

“Well, yes. I had thought we’d use that huge room Luna offered up for dancing lessons fourth year, but I couldn’t get it to show up for me, nor could I find Luna, so we’ll be meeting in the Great Hall. That actually works better, as it gives us more transparency. Harder to do something super secret out in the open.”

Neville glanced at Tom before looking at Draco. “Are we trying to do something super secret?”

“No,” Tom breezily said before Draco could answer. “Just building an army.”

He smiled a rather evil grin before almost skipping out of the Great Hall.

“Please tell me he’s not really dating Harry,” Neville moaned. “He’s so…”

“Creepy? Arrogant? Self-absorbed? Weird? Someone who doesn’t really grow on you?”

“All the above,” Neville admitted. “Did you get invited to that dinner with Slughorn?”

“No.”

“I didn’t go because he just wants me there because of my parents,” Neville proclaimed. “Is that where Hermione is?”

Draco nodded.

“Ginny was invited too,” Neville said. “On her own merit. Did you hear what she did in front of Slughorn?”

“Some sort of hex she is quite good at?”

Neville nodded, grinning. “Yeah. Did Harry go?”

“No. He has detention with Snape.”

Neville nodded. “I’m amazed his mouth hasn’t gotten him more.”

Draco snorted. “His sass doesn’t often show its face whilst Snape is around.”

“I know. Snape usually ignores him,” Neville said. “Well, want to play some chess? I miss chess.”

“Sure. Muggle or Wizard?”

“Muggle. I like it better, less unwanted advice and smashing.”

Draco snorted.


	11. I'm Ready to Hope

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I don’t own it.**

* * *

Halfway through October came the first visit to Hogsmeade. Having asked Hermione weeks ago to do something special, Draco slowly became a wreck trying to figure out what to do, as while he’d mentioned Hermione should figure it out, he knew he ought to have a plan. He was the one who asked, he’d told her as such last week. She’d nodded, giving him a knowing smile before kissing his cheek and telling him she looked forward to what he came up with.

It was the night before the trip and he had nothing.

“You’re helpless,” Luna Lovegood proclaimed, finding Draco on his way into Great Hall. “It will be stormy, tragically, so no outdoor activities. I know you wish not do, but Madam Pettifoot’s is quiet, small, and cozy. Good first date location. And, it not being Valentine’s Day, won’t be overly crowded with mushy people.”

“Thank you, Luna,” Draco said, staring at the girl as she nodded her head, her radish earrings bobbing up and down.

She turned on her heel and breezed off, leaving a smirking Tom and a confused looking Harry with Draco outside the Great Hall.

“What the hell was that about?” Harry demanded. “Who’ve you got a date with?”

Tom huffed, rolling his eyes. “You are so dense.”

“I am not! What girl has Draco ever been seen with?”

“Hermione.”

Harry looked a combination frightened, confused, and angry.

“They’re friends.”

“Yes, and much more,” Tom smirked.

“I’m leaving,” Draco proclaimed and quickly exited the area for a less filled one. He had planned on hiding in an empty classroom till bedtime, but he suddenly found himself dangling from his foot in the air in the middle of the empty hallway.

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t know it’d pick you up by your foot!”

Hermione came running forward and Draco fell to the ground with a thud.

“Well, that was fun,” Draco muttered, slowly picking himself up. “What were you doing?”

“Going through the spells Snape wrote in the margins,” Hermione explained, extending the textbook with a sheepish look on her face. Draco took the book from her and it fell open to the page she’d gotten the spell.

“It doesn’t say what it does and you just decided to try it?”

Hermione shrugged. “I know it wasn’t likely Ministry approved, but we all know the Ministry is populated with idiots. Also, all the other spells were fine. I tried it on an object it simply floated upward. I didn’t know it’d turn you over by your ankle. I thought you’d just float like the object.”

“It’s fine. I’m wearing trousers,” Draco teased. Hermione blushed. 

“Yes, well…thank you for letting me borrow it,” Hermione said. “Have you tried any of the spells?”

Draco shook his head as he shrunk the book and stored it in his pocket. “I haven’t actually read through it in great detail as Harry has done a few times.”

“Yes, well, I rather miss having Snape as our Potions professor,” Hermione lamented, hooking her arm through Draco’s and steering him back towards the Great Hall. “Granted, he is one of the better DADA teachers we’ve had.”

“That he is,” Draco readily agreed. “Too bad he can’t teach both.”

“Slughorn isn’t that bad,” Hermione said as they neared the Entrance Hall. “We’ve had worse professors.”

“Umbridge.”

“Quirrellmort as you and Harry refer to him.”

Draco laughed as they joined the crowds heading into the Great Hall.He and Hermione took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table. Harry scowled deeply till Tom stomped on his foot and began asking Hermione about Runes.

* * *

It took longer than usual to exit the castle the next morning as in addition to checking their names were on the list to be allowed to go to Hogsmeade, Filch was triple checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

“What does it matter if we’re smuggling Dark stuff OUT?” demanded a voice. “Surely you ought to be checking what we bring IN? OUCH.”

Draco craned his neck and saw Filch give Weasley a few extra jabs from the Sensor before he was allowed to head out into the sleet and wind (the weather was horrible just as Luna predicted). Filch jabbed both Draco and Hermione a few extra times for good measure before allowing them to begin the unenjoyable walk to the village. While the road was filled with students, none of them were large enough (or in Draco’s case tall enough) to block any of the wind or sleet. Hermione pressed herself into Draco’s side and pulled her scarf up so only her eyes were showing between her wooly hat and scarf. Draco sorely wished he’d thought to grab his scarf or his hat. At least he had his gloves.

When they reached the village and began making their way through, Draco noticed that unlike last time, Zonko’s was still open. Actually, unlike Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade looked exactly the same and despite the weather was bustling with shoppers.

“Do you mind if we nip into Honeydukes before we head to whatever you had planned?” Hermione called out. “I know you planned something even though you told me to think of something.”

Draco smiled and steered her towards the shop. It was crowded as usual, so the pair weaved their way through the people till Hermione found what she was looking for and made her purchase of deluxe sugar quills. (“They last for hours!”)

After Hermione bundled herself up, she dragged him into Gladrags Wizardwear. He did not quarrel with her when she grabbed an emerald green scarf with sliver thread woven through it. He did argue when she tried to buy it for him, along with a black wooly hat. She hushed him, stepped on his foot, and purchased the items. She jammed the hat on his head and wrapped his face up in the scarf in order to shut him up.

He let her do it.

He was such a goner.

After Hermione bundled herself up again, they headed down to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. Like Luna said, it shop was mostly empty. It was not decorated in a frilly or tacky manor, but rather cozy. The small tables were present and there seemed too many crammed into such a small space, but it didn’t feel as cramped due to being completely void of life.

Draco and Hermione were the only pair there.

“Hallo!” greeted a woman (if Draco had to guess was Madam Puddifoot). “Sit anywhere. I’ve tossed together an apple spice tea specially for today. Makes you feel all warm. Shall I bring that out?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely,” Hermione said, unwrapping herself and sitting herself down at a table with a good view out the window.

Draco followed suit. He sat awkwardly for a moment, wondering what to do.

“There was a bit of the Prince’s book cut out. A perfect little rectangle,” Hermione said, making Draco sit up straight. “What spell did you feel that the Prince wouldn’t want us to know?”

“Who’s to say…the Prince ever thought that book would land in anyone’s hands?”

Hermione gave him a look, which if she’d been wearing glasses and yanked all her hair into a tight bun would have made her look alarmingly like McGonagall when she was tired of your crap.

“He left it behind on purpose,” Hermione insisted, folding her arms across her chest.

Draco swallowed. “I doubt he wanted it to fall into our hands. Least of all Harry. He thinks Harry is an arrogant snot.”

“He does not. He ignores Harry,” Hermione pointed out. “He has no opinion on Harry. Other than he doesn’t seem to like his sassiness.”

“Who does?”

“Tom,” Hermione answered cheekily as Madam Puddifoot appeared with a tea pot covered in the coziest cozy Draco had ever seen. “Thank you.”

“Sure, sweetie. Now, do you want any these biscuits? These go best with this tea, shall I leave you a few?”

Hermione nodded in agreement. The woman beamed and said something about enjoying easy customers.

“Some of you lot are quite demanding when it’s not Valentine’s Day,” she said before bustling off.

Draco picked up one of the biscuits and bit into it. He about dissolved on the spot it was so good. Hermione had a similar reaction and put her hand over her mouth as if to stop the sound that came out.

She ought to. It was not a proper sound for her to making in public. Or in front of Draco.

Draco forced himself to take a huge gulp of tea, which simply burned his throat and mouth, but he didn’t care. It distracted his teenage hormones enough for him to get himself under control.

Hermione began to talk, distracting Draco. They got into a debate on Ancient Runes translations that lasted until the pot of tea was cold dregs. Draco hadn’t even noticed until Hermione and he were getting ready to leave (she let him pay for the tea) that there were other couples littering the tiny shop. Ginny and Dean Thomas were one of the pairs, though, they looked as if they were having a heated argument in the corner they were seated. Turning back to Hermione, he offered his arm and they made their way out of the warm shop into the biting cold. As they passed Three Broom Sticks, Harry and Tom emerged, both bickering. Neither noticed Draco and Hermione and walked right passed them. Hermione rolled her eyes as they fell into step behind the pair on the road back to the school. Draco was enjoying the fact he’d gone on a date successfully when he became aware of raised voices that did not belong to Tom or Harry. He looked up and squinted through the sleet past Tom and Harry to see two girls.

Draco cursed, letting go of Hermione, and pushing Tom and Harry apart as he dashed towards where Katie Bell and her friend were having an argument over a package Bell was holding. Since neither girl knew what was happening, Draco was able to tackle Bell to the ground, sending the package she’d been holding flying forward.

“Draco!” several people shouted, none of whom was the girl he was currently holding down. Bell was fighting tooth and nail to get out from under Draco.

“What are you—” Hermione stopped talking, realizing what was going on. “Don’t touch that, Leanne!”

The other girl froze, turning slowly and looking at Hermione in question. Tom hurried over and stunned Bell as she suddenly stopped trying to claw Draco’s face off and lay limp under him. Draco scrambled to his feet, unwrapping his brand new scarf as he made his way to Tom, who was almost pressing his nose to the ground to study the ripped package. Draco knelt down and wrapped it up in his scarf before picking it up.

“We’ll see she’s taken to the Hospital Wing,” Tom said over the roar of the storm. “Best take that to Snape.”

Draco nodded, running towards the school. He was on autopilot till he found himself outside of Snape’s office. He had no idea if Snape would be in till Snape ordered, “Come in or I’ll curse you since you seem to plan to stand out there all day.”

Draco steeled himself and entered the office, which was as he remembered it from his few visits: overstuffed with potions, books, and various other Dark items Snape had collected over the years. Unlike other Heads of House, Snape did not display his House’s colors anywhere, as everything was black if it wasn’t a potion, book, or other Dark item. Even his desk was black.

“Sir, Katie Bell was carrying this,” Draco said, extending it towards Snape. “It’s a cursed necklace.”

Snape froze in extending his hands to take the necklace, which was poking out of the ripped wrapping.

“No one touched it,” Draco offered. “Tom stunned Bell, who was Imperviused likely to take this to…uh…whoever.”

“You know,” Snape dared in a low voice. “Just say it.”

“Dumbledore,” Draco whispered, staring at Snape as if seeing him for the first time.

Granted, it was like seeing Snape for the first time, he realized. Snape had lost most of his hair.

His hair was short.

And clean.

He was still dressed in his usual billowing, black robes, but you could clearly see his hooked nose and black eyes easily, as well as the fact wasn’t exactly as ugly as Draco originally thought. Also, the sneering expression on the man’s face was crystal clear as he muttered while waving his wand over the necklace still in Draco’s hands.

“Set it on the desk, Malfoy.”

Draco did that.

“You know,” he whispered, staring at this odd looking Snape.

“Of course I know,” Snape snapped. “You’re in Gryiffindor.”

“So you’ve known since first year?”

Snape didn’t answer, instead went back to waving his wand.

“You can leave.”

Draco studied Snape for a long, drawn out moment before hastily exiting.

* * *

“He what?”

“He cut his hair off,” Draco repeated for the hundredth time. “It’s all gone. Cut all…short.”

Draco waved his hands around his head, trying to illustrate the style Snape had chosen for unknown reasons.

“First, it was clean and now he cut it off. Why would he do that? What was he thinking? I mean, with the exception of the Black brothers, pureblood adults almost always have long hair.”

“He’s not a pureblood.”

“But, he’s pretending to be,” Harry offered. Tom gave him a look. “What? Okay, he’s playing up his pureblood side. He’s a Prince. They were one of the…major pureblood families, right?”

“Yes, before their extinction,” Tom said flatly. “They are no more, as the last member of the family, or so we thought, was killed by Voldemort.”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “So, he’d likely want to look the part for Voldemort. Like a proper pureblood.”

“He cut his hair,” Draco whispered.

“So do you,” Tom offered unhelpfully. “Well, sometimes you do.”

Draco flopped his too long fringe out of his eyes. “I keep it shorter than most purebloods my own age.”

Tom shook his head, his hair not moving due to the fact he kept his hair rather short, as if that could control the curl. It was still curling all over the place on his head.

“Can we not talk about hair?” Harry moaned. “We’re not a bunch of girls.”

“How was your date?” Tom asked, looking at Draco with a teasing expression on his face.

“NOT GIRLS!” Harry shouted, throwing a book at Tom.

Tom caught it before it hit him in the face. “Why must you throw things at me all the time?”

“Habit.”

Draco snorted.

“I’m going to go down to dinner. When does Madam Pomfrey think she’ll release Bell?” Draco asked, standing up.

“Tomorrow,” Tom replied. “She released the curse easily on her, once she knew what was wrong with the child. She sent us off after that, telling us Bell will likely return to the Tower tomorrow.”

Draco nodded. Better than last time when Bell had to be shipped off to St Mungo’s and remained there for a few months.

“I’ll go with you,” Harry said, climbing off his bed and landing with a thud. “I was going to have Quidditch practice tomorrow, but if Katie’s not feeling up to it—”

“She’ll be fine,” Tom said, sliding off the bed and landing quietly next to Harry. “The weather, though, that might gave you pause to try to fly in it.”

“Oliver had us practice in worse,” Harry reminded him.

And the pair began to bicker about practicing Quidditch in bad weather. They kept it up till they reached the Great Hall and took their seats. Draco was sure they only stopped bickering due to the appearance of food.

“So, good trip to the village?” Neville brightly asked, sitting down across from Draco.

“Mostly,” Draco said. “Didn’t end on a high note.”

Neville frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault someone gave Bell a cursed necklace to deliver to someone in the castle,” Draco shrugged.

“What?”

Harry launched into the tale, allowing Draco to finish his meal and escape. He spotted Hermione sitting at the Ravenclaw table staring at someone who didn’t belong at the table. The someone was merrily chatting away, seemingly not noticing the fact Hermione was staring at her as if she was batty. Draco eased into the spot Luna made for him next to Hermione and gave Addy Lupin a strange look.

“Hi-ho, Draco Malfoy!” she said cheerfully. “I know. I don’t belong here. Yet, I do. I sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“You did?” Hermione asked.

Addy nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t really belong anywhere else and after a year, I told Dumbledore I’d sort into a House. Sherlock decided it’d work out best for me. And other than I hated the girls I shared a dorm with, it was fine.”

Hermione nodded in understanding.

“What are you doing here?” Draco inquired.

“Oh, there was a little something I did this afternoon for an old friend. I kind of wanted to scare him to death, as no one told him I was back.”

“You saw Snape?” Draco guessed.

She nodded cheerfully. “Yeah. He looks great, doesn’t he?”

Draco’s mouth fell open.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“He can see, can’t he?” Luna dreamily inquired, smiling. “That’s good. I’ve always wondered how he could see between the fumes and hair. Cheerio!”

Luna got up off the bench and danced off. Hermione was bemused as she turned back to Addy.

“Well, when I was here before, I tried to get him to at least wash his hair, which he claimed he did, so I gave him some clarifying shampoo, which seemed to work.”

Draco mouthed the words she’d said.

“I had Lily make it for me as I am a disaster at potions. Just like Remus,” she laughed. “Anyway, Reggie had some adventure and Remus looked as if he was going to strangle me if I played _Tragic Kingdom_ one more time, so I decided to check out Hogwarts.”

“How did you get here?”

“Well…I walked,” Addy said, loosing some of her cheeriness for the first time. “Just walked right in.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, while Hermione looked suspicious.

“Just like Sirius walked out of jail?” Hermione guessed.

Addy gave a lopsided smile that looked a little strange on her face, as Draco had seen it on Remus Lupin quite a few times over the years. She tapped the side of her nose, glancing up towards the Head Table.

“And that’s my cue. Laters,” Addy said, gracefully getting up and loping off towards the Head Table. She leapt up lightly and took the open seat next to Dumbledore, who eyed her with a look of exasperation on his face. She simply grinned lopsidedly at him.

“She is rather…”

“Weird? Talkative? Out there? Hanging out on the moon?”

“Clever,” Hermione finished, giving Draco a look. “I do not find her strange.”

Her eyes darted over to the direction Luna had gone as if that was her base for judging people who were strange.

“She was telling me about some of her friends from school, you know, besides the Marauders and Regulus,” Hermione went on, gathering her things. “She was pretty good friends with a Muggleborn who was a few years younger than her. She seems to believe he will have a brilliant career as a writer for television.”

“In the Muggle world?”

Hermione nodded. “He decided his options were better if he simply went back to being a Muggle. He still keeps up with the wizarding world, though. He noticed an article announcing the arrival of an American Spellsmith at the Spellsmith headquarters in Edinburgh to mentor future Spellsmiths.”

“She’s…”

“Yes. It seems the paperwork went through and Adelaide Lupin is a Spellsmith once again and working at the Headquarters. You ought to speak to her about landing the internship this summer. They only take one student a summer and haven’t taken a Hogwarts Student since Atlanta D. Black.”

Draco frowned. “Where do they come from?”

“All over. The Headquarters in Edinburgh is the only one in the entire world,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t you find that out when you researched?”

Draco felt himself color and Hermione laughed.

“Come on, let’s finish our date.”

“We didn’t finish it?” Draco asked, panic welling up in his stomach.

“No. We were interrupted by circumstance,” Hermione said cryptically, giving him a small smile that made his stomach swoop.

Without asking any further questions, he got up and followed Hermione, taking her hand once they were out of the Great Hall and letting her guide him to wherever their date was going to end. He had no idea where she was going, as she was walking passed a multitude of empty classrooms perfect to end a date within. (He assumed she wanted to snog, as that was how most dates ended, right?)

“Here,” Hermione whispered, turning and heading down a corridor that looked as if it’d not seen life in eons. The dust created a carpet it was so thick, but Draco happily followed Hermione. She led him into a classroom that hadn’t seen use in decades (the dust didn’t channel carpet). “I found this last week when I accidentally got off the staircase at the wrong time. The room feels magical, doesn’t it?”

It did. Draco wasn’t sure if it felt that way due to something he didn’t understand or because he was here alone with Hermione and was likely to properly snog her.

Finally.

But, he didn’t want to make the first move because he felt more awkward than he’d ever felt before. He was acutely aware of their height difference and his limbs felt suddenly filled with lead. He glanced at Hermione who was using her hand to rid a piano of layers upon layers of dust. Draco looked around further and noted the room was filled with musical instruments.

“Remember when Dumbledore said that music was magical?” Hermione whispered.

“Not really,” Draco admitted. “But, I believe it is very magical when used properly.”

“Even Muggles feel the magic behind music,” Hermione went on as if Draco hadn’t said anything. “It’s strong, so strong it doesn’t even matter if you’ve got magic or not. You still feel it. It is like this room knows it’s filled with musical instruments so the magic is stronger here than elsewhere in the castle. Even I can feel it, like you feel magic.”

Draco raised his hand and felt outward. He shivered and quickly stuffed his hand in his pocket.

“The force is strong here,” Draco intoned, wondering if Atlanta had known about this room. There appeared to have been someone in the room a while ago, judging by the footprints and the fact certain instruments weren’t as dust covered as others.

“Look at this.”

Hermione’s back was to him, so he wandered over to see what she had. As he neared her, she whirled around. Draco caught her sent and felt a little dizzy. Then he got more lightheaded, as the thing Hermione was to show him were her lips.

And after that, well, Draco wasn’t one to kiss and tell.


	12. Dancing on Clouds

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

By Monday the brutal winds died out, but Draco still felt like as if he was blowing around, never able to get his feet planted firmly on the ground. Dating Hermione was the best. They spent most of Sunday cloistered in the library, mostly doing homework but there was also plenty of kissing. Heading back to classes on Monday felt like a rude awaking from the perfect dream.

“So, how was Slughorn’s gathering Friday night?” Tom inquired as they situated themselves at the trays containing gnarled Snarfgallup stumps for Herbology on Monday morning.

“Dunno,” Harry said, tugging on the protective gloves. “I didn’t go.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “And your excuse?”

“Meeting with the Headmaster.”

Tom narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line.

“It was rather fun,” Hermione said, a bit breathlessly as she set her things down next to Draco. She sent him a sunny smile before turning to Tom. “I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns over McLaggen because he’s so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones.”

Harry blankly blinked at Hermione, then turned to Draco for an explanation.

“You are lacking as a Quidditch fan,” Draco sighed. “She’s the captain of the Holyhead Harpies.”

“And rather full of herself,” Hermione grumbled.

“I’ll catch up on league stuff after I’m done with Marv,” Harry muttered as Professor Sprout briskly bustled over and told them to get moving as they were lagging behind. Neville already had a bloody lip, but was clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object the size of a grapefruit. Several other students had scratches on their faces, but only Neville had the Snarfgallup unearthed.

Harry gave the gnarled stump a look, swallowed, then dived. The thing sprang to life at once, the long bramble-like vines flying out of the top and whipping through the air. One instantly tangled into Hermione’s hair. Tom looked bored as he trapped a couple vines and knotted them together. Seeing the hole open, Draco plunged his arm in and got trapped from the elbow down. Hermione freed her hair, pulled it back tighter then helped Tom and Harry wrench the vines, forcing the hole open again. Draco wrenched his arm free, holding a pod like Neville’s. The moment they all let go, the prickly vines went back inside and the gnarled stump sat looking innocent and not deadly.

“How on Earth did Neville do that by himself?” Hermione asked, brushing bits of vine and dirt off her face.

“He’s the plant whisper,” Harry insisted in reverence.

“Pass me a bowl,” Draco said, holding the pulsating pod at arm’s length. Tom handed him one and Draco quickly dropped the thing, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands down.

“Don’t be squeamish, squeeze it out, they’re best when fresh!” Professor Sprout called out above the noise of the class trying to wrestle with a plant that wanted to kill them.

“Anyway,” Hermione said as there hadn’t been a lump of wood trying to kill them a moment ago, “Slughorn’s going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there’s no way you’ll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come.”

Tom snorted, bursting the pod open in the bowl with ease. Draco remembered it being a lot harder the first time he’d tried it.

“Just for the Slug Club?” Harry inquired.

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “We’re allowed to bring guests, so you can bring Tom if you want.”

Harry appeared relieved, but then Tom proclaimed, “I am not going to anything held by Slughorn. Been there, done that.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at the boy, who was furiously not looking at Harry.

“Did you go last time?” Hermione said, rounding quickly on Draco.

“I party crashed for about five-seconds,” Draco remembered. “I was trying to get to the Room of Requirement and Filch found me. Not my best moment. Slughorn was in such a jolly mood, he let me stay, only I didn’t remain because Snape dragged me out and tried to find out what I was up to.”

“And you didn’t tell him?” Harry asked.

“No. I was an arrogant toe-rag who thought he wanted my glory,” Draco spat. “Who wishes to get the second pod out of the plant?”

“Bother,” Harry grumbled. “There’s another one?”

“What are we to do with the tubers in the bowl?” Hermione asked and for the rest of the lesson, they didn’t discuss parties, whom was taking whom, or anything not having to do with the lumpy, gnarled wood stump and it’s pods full of wiggling tubers.

When not with Hermione (or even when he was with Hermione), Draco watched Harry and Tom closely. While Draco was sure Tom had more than friendly feelings for the Boy-With-A-Death-Wish, Draco wasn’t sure about Harry. While Potter wore his feelings on his sleeve (only he was the idiot who didn’t realize he liked Ginny Weasley till they finally got together), Harry did not. Harry guarded his emotions, especially after fourth year and fifth year. He seemed to have shut down completely. Draco was sure this time he had no romantic feelings for Ginny Weasley, he detested Cho Chang, and showed no interest in any other girl at school while every other sixth year boy (other than Draco and Tom) was eyeing the girls left and right. Draco had suspected Harry of liking Tom, but now he wasn’t sure if Harry liked the other boy passed a friend or not.

Draco kind of did not want to know, just as Harry did not want to know that his two best friends were dating, as he completely ignored the change in Draco and Hermione’s relationship. While Tom smirked and teased, Harry ignored Tom and changed the subject, usually to trying to find a replacement for Katie Bell, as while she was out of the Hospital Wing, she wasn’t supposed to get hit in the head for the next month, thus she’d have to miss the next game.

“Should I ask Dean Thomas?” Harry asked, looking confused one evening.

“He’s dating Ginny Weasley,” Tom said, not looking up from the Transfiguration magazine he was reading. “Might add some romantic tension to the team.”

Harry blankly stared at Tom.

“Ginny is serious about Quidditch,” Draco said, giving Tom a look. “She’d never let her relationship get in the way of the team.”

Tom shrugged. “You know her better than I.”

“I’ll ask Dean as soon as I can corner him,” Harry decided.

The Corning of Dean Thomas happened after Transfiguration the next afternoon. Most of the class was gone, including Tom and Hermione who’d left behind a whole flock of twittering, little yellow birds. They’d been the only ones to be able to conjure so much as a feather from thin air. Harry sucked up a lot of oxygen and hurried over to the table where Thomas was still packing up. Behind him, Seamus Finnigan was slamming books into his bag with a sour look on his face.

“Are you still interested in playing Chaser? Just for our next game.”

“Wha—? Yeah! Of course.”

“Well, you’re in,” Harry said as Finnigan slammed books into his bag louder than he’d been before. Harry looked as if he wanted to be elsewhere. “Practice is tonight at seven.”

“Right,” Dean exclaimed, eyes bright. “Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can’t wait to tell Ginny!”

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and Finnigan standing in uncomfortable silence that only ended when a bird dropping landed on Finnigan’s head. He made a disgusted noise and stomped out of the room. Harry sagged. Draco Vanished the birds (he could do that, but couldn’t make them appear out of nothing), then the droppings, and made his way over to Harry. He clapped him on the shoulder.

“The woes of being captain,” Draco lamented.

“Wood never had to replace anyone,” Harry grumbled.

“Johnson had to replace almost her whole team last year,” Draco reminded him. “At least you’ve got choices when it comes to Chasers.”

“Bah,” Harry grumped.

While there was a lot of muttering about Harry’s choice of replacement (there was another girl in their house who would likely have made a better choice, but she’d crashed her broom into Ginny for some unknown reason during tryouts multiple times), Draco knew after their practice that night they were going to win their first game. Thomas worked well with Ginny and himself. The rest of the team wasn’t shoddy either.

“That was a really good practice,” Harry said, bouncing up and down as he and Draco made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

“Yes, Dean works well with the team,” Draco offered.

Harry continued to rehash the practice till they reached the shortcut behind the tapestry. Harry pulled the tapestry back and they found themselves face to face with Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley, lip-locked together. Draco cocked his head to the side, wondering if that was what he and Hermione looked like when they got a little carried away with kissing.

“ARGSKH,” Harry ineloquently squeaked, making the couple jump apart.

“What?” Ginny asked, looking at Harry in a confused manner.

Harry made a serious of noises that weren’t actually words before he turned around and ran off. Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“What’s his problem? It’s not like he’s never seen anyone kissing before,” Ginny muttered, her cheeks turning a little red.

“Er…c’mon, Ginny,” Dean said, tugging on Ginny’s sleeve, “let’s go back to the Common Room.”

“Truth is, I don’t think he has,” Draco said to Ginny. “And after his horrible experience with it, I don’t think he’s ever tried it again.”

The blush left Ginny’s face and she looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Or it was simply he knows you,” Draco offered.

“You know me,” Ginny pointed out. “Just as well as Harry.”

Draco shrugged.

“Ginny?”

“Fine, yes, let’s go,” Ginny said, turning and stomping off.

Dean waved at Draco before hurrying after his girlfriend. Draco decided to take the long way back to the Tower and let the tapestry drop back into place. He turned to go when he came face to face with Tom Riddle.

“Lurking in dark corridors, Riddle?”

“No. Avoiding amorous couples.”

Draco smirked. “Jealous, Riddle?”

“No, Malfoy, I happen not to be.”

Draco eyed the boy in front of him, who was standing so stiffly a breeze would likely knock him over and he’d crack into a million pieces.

“Sure.”

Tom sniffed. Draco snorted, moving to walk down the corridor but Tom stopped him. Draco looked at the boy in question to find his body language had loosened and he wore a curious expression on his face. His eyes darted around and he grinned devilishly.

“Draco, shouldn’t that little first year be else where at this hour of night?” Tom inquired quietly.

Draco stared at the girl, who was in fact a small first year from Slytherin, who was standing holding a glass bottle of toadsqawn. Draco sighed, walking forward silently, with Tom on his heels.

“Excuse me,” Draco began, causing the girl to jump and the bottle shattered all over the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Draco waved his wand, fixing the bottle, then moved the toadspawn into the jar.

“Shouldn’t you be in your House right now? It’s after curfew for first years,” Draco said gently.

“Y-y-y-yes, sir,” the girl stuttered, tearing off as fast as she could.

Draco glanced at the blank wall and sighed deeply.

“That was Crabbe or Goyle?”

“I don’t remember,” Draco admitted. “But he’s in there right now.”

“You could go in. You know exactly what he is doing and in what room,” Tom pointed out.

Draco glanced at Tom, then walked back and forth three times thinking he wanted the somewhere to hide— the same thing he thought to get the room he wanted the first time. He didn’t expect the door to appear, yet it did. He glanced at Tom before he jerked the door open, poking his head into the cavernous room.

It was silent.

Tom silently cast a spell, which shot around the room, but revealed nothing.

“There’s no one here.”

Draco glanced at Tom before he entered the room and headed for where he remembered the cabinet to be located. He heard Tom follow. He came to a stop in front of the cabinet, one door hanging off the hinges. Draco slowly opened the door to reveal an empty inside.

“He’s been working on it. It’s empty. It should be full of junk.”

“You could break it further,” Tom suggested, rounding the Vanishing Cabinet with a look of calculation.

“He’d still fix it,” Draco pointed out, slamming the broken door, which further popped off the hinges. It hung dangerously over his feet. “The summer is always fixed, but there, I broke the door further.”

“Dumbledore is up to something,” Tom burst out, looking almost shocked he’d said it.

Draco narrowed his eyes, giving Tom his full attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s having meetings with Harry,” Tom stated. “And Harry’s not telling us about it.”

Draco frowned deeply.

“You’ve not noticed because you’ve been wrapped up in your new romance,” Tom sneered, “but, I’ve noticed he’s gone sporadically and he stares at me differently now.”

“He stared at you before?”

Tom gave him a look and sniffed. “He now looks at me differently. Whatever Dumbledore is telling him is changing his opinion of me.”

Draco wanted to say that was good, as even after all these years of Tom Riddle not doing anything evil or wrong, Draco half wished he’d go away or he’d do something to make Harry hate him. Yet, staring at the boy now, Draco felt horrible, as Tom Riddle, while maybe genetically similar to Voldemort, was not Lord Voldemort. Nor did he show up to steal Draco’s spot as Harry’s best friend. While the two were friends, they’d never be best friends due to whatever else was between them that neither spoke of.

“What could Dumbledore possibly know about you that would make Harry see you differently?”

Tom looked unsure, which was unnerving. He bit the inside of his cheek, casting his sapphire eyes to the side and staring at the floor. Draco shifted uneasily.

“Dumbledore would know about my and Lord Voldemort’s past,” Tom said quietly, clutching the strap of his book bag and still staring at the floor as if it held the answers to life itself. “While I’ve shared a few stories of my childhood with Harry, if he’s seeing things…through others eyes without my side…”

“He might be seeing a side of you that you wish to remain hidden?”

“Not hidden,” Tom insisted, looking up sharply. “I’ve told him about…some events. Like for instance, why Voldemort would hide a horcrux in that cave where Regulus found it, but…”

“But there’s other things Dumbledore might know?”

“Who knows?” Tom burst out, throwing his arms in the air. “The man has been trying for years to find the horcruxes. He’d have to…learn more about Voldemort, get to know him on a level he doesn’t wish anyone to know him—”

“As you’ve pointed out in the past, you are not Voldemort,” Draco reminded the younger boy, who was looking much younger than his years. “What could Dumbledore possibly find out about you that would—”

“Draco, I was a horribly cruel child,” Tom stated flatly, folding his arms across his chest. “While no one locked me under the stairs and made me their maid, I had no friends and made all the other children fear me. When new ones appeared, I made sure they were not to mess with me. I was the only child with his own room. For good reason.”

“Fine, so you were a rotten brat,” Draco agreed, feeling a little out of his depth. “I’m sure you shared that with Harry.”

“I have, yet he still looks at me as if he doesn’t know me after these meetings.”

“Could he be…upset?”

“Over what I did?”

“No,” Draco assured, feeling strange that he was trying to convince Tom Harry still liked him. “I doubt he’d put a lot of stock into the past actions of child Tom Riddle. Well, at first he might, but after he mulls it over he shouldn’t.”

Tom looked unconvinced. “Why is Dumbledore meeting with him? Regulus is horcrux hunting, so he doesn’t need to pass down that information for Harry to use after his death.”

“Regulus is horcrux hunting?”

“What did you think he was doing? Planting daisies?” Tom snorted. “He’s Dumbledore’s stooge hunting those foul things down.”

“Why?”

“Finishing what he started,” Tom offered. “Last time, I assume Harry was supposed to finish the job, as Dumbledore likely hadn’t told a soul. Yet, this time, Regulus is finding the hocruxes, so why is Dumbledore meeting with Harry and telling him things that make him look at me strangely and avoid me?”

Draco frowned, having missed the avoidance.

His head was really in the clouds.

Tom folded his arms across his chest and pouted (which looks all kinds of wrong).

“He would not need to convince Harry on how— oh.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Oh,” Tom said, frowning and arms dropping to his side. “What…what if…”

“You’re not a horcrux,” Draco reminded Tom quickly. “Why don’t we corner Harry and ask him, okay? Like now. He’s in the Common Room. Let’s go.”

Draco grabbed Tom’s arm and towed him all the way to the Common Room. Harry wasn’t in the Common Room, but in the dormitory. He was seated on his bed, looking as if he wanted to gouge his eyes out. He jumped up in surprise when Draco and Tom entered, then frowned deeply at whatever he saw on Tom’s face.

“What have you been meeting with Dumbledore about?” Draco demanded.

Harry paled. Draco gave him a stern look.

“He’s been…giving me Voldemort history lessons,” Harry said, looking utterly baffled. “I mean, I knew a lot about his school days from Tom, but Dumbledore thinks… he reckonds I need to know more about him in order to face him in the end. You know, know your enemy?”

“So…that’s why you’ve been staring at Tom funny?” Draco asked as Tom stepped on his foot hard. Draco hissed in pain and glared at Tom and stomped on the other boy’s foot in retaliation.

“Will you two stop? I didn’t mean to look at Tom funny. It was weird seeing the day Dumbledore met him…and I felt bad because Tom’s never seen his family and I’ve now seen his parents, but—“

“You’ve seen my parents?” Tom breathed, stopping his skirmish with Draco. Draco got one last foot stomp in before moving away from Tom, who didn’t bother to notice due to his staring at Harry as if he was a piece of chocolate.

Harry nodded, looking guilty. “Yeah. Uh, you look alarming like your father.”

“But nothing like my mother?”

Harry shook his head. “She…uh…she had long hair that was dark?”

Tom sat heavily down on Harry’s bed.

“And your uncle liked to curse your dad, who, uh, thought your mother’s family were…well, strange?”

“A bunch of freaks,” Tom muttered bleakly. “Makes sense. He was a land owner, rich and affluent. Good looking I assume. The Guants…I know they weren’t the easiest people to look at due to inbreeding for centuries.”

Harry cringed.

“What memory did he show you?” Tom asked.

“The day a Ministry official went to give the Gaunts a warning for what Morfin had done to your father the previous day.”

Tom nodded. Harry reached out and grabbed Tom’s hand. Draco quickly looked at the ground.

“The Gaunts were nothing to write home about, and your mother was terrified of her father and brother, but she was besotted by your father.”

“Who didn’t know she was alive,” Tom muttered.

“No. It’s likely true about the love potion theory you’ve got,” Harry quietly admitted.

“What else did he show you?”

“The day he met you,” Harry revealed.

Draco glanced up on his way to his own bed to sit and found Harry still had Tom’s hand, but Tom wasn’t holding Harry’s back. He wore a horrified expression that was a tinted with embarrassment.

“Not one of my better moments,” Tom dryly joked.

“No. No, it wasn’t. But, you’re no longer a magpie,” Harry teased weakly.

“True. I gave that up when I had no reason to hold trophies any longer from my cruelty,” Tom confessed. “Also, I couldn’t actually hold onto anything.”

Harry snorted.

“What else?” Draco asked, making both boys jump as they’d clearly forgotten Draco was in the room.

“Uh…well, there was a foggy memory Dumbledore got of Slughorn,” Harry said, glancing at Tom sheepishly.

“Foggy?” Tom asked.

“He altered it,” Draco realized. “Slughorn let something slip that he was later ashamed of.”

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore suspected, until Regulus told him about Voldemort borrowing that evil book from his father’s family library, that Slughorn had given Voldemort the information he needed…to know if he could make more than one horcrux.”

Tom looked ill. “Slughorn would have given it, if he’d known. Why would he know that kind of information?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Draco answered, refraining from rolling his eyes. “He’d likely come across it during his research for his Mastery, wondered what it was, found out, and stored it away for later use if needed.”

Harry turned a lovely shade of pea. 

“He’d never use it,” Draco assured both boys.

“How come you didn’t know what it was?” Harry quietly asked.

“One: Voldemort took all the books pertaining to horcruxes in the library; and two: I never researched a Mastery. Slughorn was at school when the books were still in the library and he researched a Mastery in Potions. While horcruxes are not potions, they are a Dark Art, which Potion Masters must be fully versed in order to stop curses and halt poisons.”

“He’s right,” Tom quietly admitted. “In the days before Voldemort ran off with the books, they were in the library for anyone with access to the Restricted Section and there were many more people reading for Masteries than simply getting jobs straight out of school in those days. Especially those from pureblood families. It was only recently that Masteries fell out of fashion, mostly because starting with your father’s generation, they were too time consuming and there were greater issues to deal with, such as the war Voldemort was waging on their way of life.”

“So, it was simply luck that no one knew about horcruxes?” Harry inquired

“No, it was of Voldemort’s making,” Tom said, turning sharply to Harry. “He made sure so no one would know of them.”

“So, would Snape have learned about them? He’s got a Mastery right? He’d do research in more places than just Hogwarts, yeah?”

“Maybe. He did read Potions in London. There are quite a few extensive libraries in London, and as a Death Eater he likely had access to certain pureblood libraries as well,” Tom admitted grumpily. “Though, as we all know the book with the most information on the topic is written in Parseltounge and only three people we know if can read it.”

Harry shuddered. While the two had read the book Regulus had given them, they’d both seemed too disturbed after telling Regulus to share the information with Draco and Hermione. However, because they were more than willing to entertain the idea of seven horcruxes, neither had pressed Harry to tell them what the book had entailed.

Draco didn’t want to know.

“He wants you to know Voldemort’s motivations,” Tom said into the silence that had fallen. “To see his secrecy, his need to be alone in everything. While we do know this, to the extent…”

“He talks big, but his goals are small,” Harry offered.

Draco snorted. “Small? The total destruction of wizarding society?”

“No, I mean, he talks about taking over and ruling, creating a new society, but he doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t want to be Minister of Magic, he doesn’t want to hold a position of power publicly, he wants to be like Slughorn— pulling the strings behind the scene. He wants….”

Harry stared at Tom, mouth hanging open.

“What?”

“The last memory I saw…it was of when Voldemort returned to Hogwarts in the fifties,” Harry whispered, looking horrified. “It went along with, or so Dumbledore thought, the Slughorn memory. I didn’t understand till now.”

“Why did Voldemort visit the school and meet with Dumbledore in the fifties?” Draco asked, feeling bewildered.

“He wanted to teach,” Harry murmured. He shook his head and looked at Draco. “When he graduated from school, he applied for the position that was opening up for DADA. The headmaster turned him away because he as too young, not enough experience. He worked at Borgin and Burkes for a short time till he vanished without a trace after killing a woman who owned two Founders items. He made those into horcruxes, by the way. Then, he reappeared, surrounded by his old gang from his school days. He reapplied for the DADA position, which had just happened to be open after the mysterious disappearance of the professor. Voldemort met with Dumbledore and he looked…different. His features were all blurred.”

“He’d divided his soul too many times already,” Tom realized in an undertone.

Harry nodded. “As well as other things. He’d pushed the limits of magic, or so he claimed. Well, Dumbledore turned him down and he left in a huff. Since then, Hogwarts has been unable to keep a DADA teacher for more than a year.”

“He cursed the position,” Draco shuddered.

“That’s what Dumbledore believes, even though he didn’t exactly say that. Anyway, Dumbledore said Voldemort wished to mold young minds, to create followers for himself. I thought he just wanted to crate an army of Death Eaters, but in reality, he wanted to do what Slughorn is doing: creating connections and holding the power behind the scenes. Marv doesn’t actually want to be in power. He wants power, but…”

“He doesn’t want to deal with all the strings that come attached to being in the spotlight,” Tom nodded, looking wise and sage-like. “He never wanted to be in the spotlight, nor do I. I detest most people. I’d rather be a powerful wizard locked away in my own home than be out in public showing off.”

“But, he does like showboating,” Harry reminded Tom. “He talks a lot about himself.”

“Of course he’d want to boast about his success,” Tom drawled. “Slughorn does the same thing.”

“And you?” Draco challenged.

Tom cut his eyes to Draco. “I believe my success speaks for itself, Malfoy.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“So, how does knowing that Voldemort simply wants to mold young minds help us?” Harry asked, looking between the other two boys.

Draco felt his stomach bottom out. He looked at Tom, meeting his gem colored eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing.

“He’s going to go after Hogwarts,” they said in unison.

Harry turned a combination of white and green.

“He wants…what Dumbledore has,” Tom determined, looking a little green. “Take Dumbledore out…he can implant himself here, as headmaster. He’ll be able implement his influence for generations, as he’ll never die.”

“Well, he thinks he’ll never die,” Draco reminded the pair. “But, he will die. Painfully.”

“Not likely,” Tom said, shifting closer to Harry and looking ill. “While I agree he ought to die a pain filled death, the best option to us remains—”

“ _Avada Kedava_ ,” Draco sighed.

“Did you ever notice if you shorten that spell, it is AK?” Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow. At both Tom and Draco’s blank looks, he added, “AK-47? It’s an automatic weapon that, uh, Muggles use to take one another out in war. It’s a reliable rifle.”

“A gun,” Tom filled in at Draco’s confused expression. “Muggle wand?”

“Oh, those. Makes loud noises and shoot tiny bits of metal,” Draco said, nodding. “There’s one called AK-47?”

Harry nodded. “I shorten the spell in my head to AK and always think of it like the rifle. Only, well, less bloody and not as loud.”

“Cleaner,” Tom drawled. “Well, magic is usually cleaner.”

“It also cleans,” Draco drawled, twirling his wand and casting a few cleaning spells at Harry’s bed, making him yelp.

 


	13. Teenage Hormones and Other Things

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. “Walking on Sunshine” was written by Kimberoy Rew.**

* * *

The morning of Gryffindor’s first Quidditch match dawned brighter than fire. The sky was pale blue and no clouds were seen within the confines of the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall.

“Hi, Draco,” purred Lavender Brown, sitting down next to him and wearing a horribly flirty smile.

Draco shrank back, staring at her wide eyed.

“I bet you’ll do brilliantly today,” she went on, batting her eyelashes.

Draco tried to move further away, only to ram into Harry, who was trying to pursued their Keeper to drink or eat something. He was as white as a sheet for some reason.

“Move,” Tom ordered, roughly pushing Brown out of the way. He gave her a withering look and said, “I don’t know how you failed to notice, but he’s got a girlfriend.”

Brown scowled at Tom, opening her mouth to say something rude, but never got to as Ginny showed up, pushing her further down the bench when she chose to sit down next to Tom.

The world must be ending.

“Ideal Quidditch conditions,” Ginny proclaimed loudly.

“Yes, no wind to speak of,” Tom replied equally loud.

Draco stared at them.

“Oh, guess what I heard,” Ginny said as Dean Thomas sat down across from her, followed by the two boys who were Beaters. “That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey took a Bludger to the head in practice yesterday and he’s still out cold. Oh, and Nott’s gone off sick.”

“What?” Harry asked, turning his attention away from the Keeper. “He’s ill? What’s wrong with him?”

“No idea, but it’s great for us,” Ginny said brightly, helping her self to some oatmeal. “They’re playing Harper instead; he’s in my year and he’s an idiot.”

“Just because he’d an idiot, doesn’t mean he can’t play,” offered one of the Beaters. (Draco really ought to learn their names.) “I’m not the brightest tool in the shed, but I can play Beater pretty well.”

“It’s sharpest tool, not brightest tool,” Tom dryly corrected.

“See,” he shrugged, smiling with good nature.

“Well, let’s all eat something, then head on out. We’ve got five minutes,” Harry proclaimed, pushing the contents of his plate around and not eating. Everyone else on the team ate (well, except the Keeper). Draco followed with the rest of the team to the locker rooms, changed, and headed out to the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. Draco took in the view from the other end of the pitch and gazed at the crowds, all either dressed in red and gold or green and silver. There were no hints of the other Houses, as they’d all picked sides as well. And from the overwhelming mass of red and gold, most of the other students had chosen Gryffindor.

It felt brilliant to be on the more popular side for once.

“Do we win?” Harry asked Draco in his ear before they mounted their brooms.

Draco glanced at him and shrugged. “Didn’t follow Quidditch and if you remember, Nott’s not here. Nor was I. I don’t know what happened in the game. I didn’t care.”

Harry pouted, but headed off to shake hands with the Slytherin team captain. At the sound of the whistle, Draco kicked off, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him.

“Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year,” said a tall, skinny blond boy who Draco recognized as the nay-sayer Hufflepuff from DMC last year. “Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal. It’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and Sloper saves it. It was thought that McLaggen would get another shot this season at Keeper, as he is arguably the best there is, yet Potter picked Sloper. Can’t think why.”

There were boos from most of the stadium.

Within a half hour, Gryffindor was leading sixty to zero. Draco had scored two goals, and Ginny the other four. As the Tackless Hufflepuff continued to wonder aloud about the merits of the team, the team kept proving him wrong by being spectacular. It seemed as if the team could do no wrong. Again and again, the team scored, and again and again, Sloper blocked the goal with the almost brilliance of Oliver Wood. Draco was so zeroed in on the game, he failed to even realize the Snitch had been spotted till he became aware of the hollers and cheers of the crowd had changed. Draco threw one last goal before the roar told him that Harry had caught the Snitch. Draco pulled up and stopped, turning to find Harry hurtling towards the ground while holding the Snitch up high. Draco was about to head over to where the rest of the team was gathering when Ginny streaked passed him, heading in the wrong direction.

“Ginny!” Draco shouted as the girl crashed into the commentator’s podium with so much force, the whole thing collapsed.

The crowed shrieked and laughed. Draco and Harry hurried over to find the Hufflepuff boy feebly stirring and Ginny blithely saying to an irate Professor McGonagall she forgot to brake while standing in a heap of wood. Draco and Harry both burst into laughter, along with the rest of the team while McGonagall looked torn between laughing along with them and scolding Ginny. Instead, she straightened her hat.

“Draco!”

Draco turned at the sound of Hermione’s voice. For a moment he suffered a surreal moment, as Hermione was decked out in Gryffindor colors from the hat on her head, the scarf around her neck, and the color of her jumper.

She looked a lot like Granger.

Draco’s heart twisted and burst at the same time.

“Did you swallow a lemon?” Harry asked as Hermione fought to get through the mass of students around them.

“Draco!”

Draco shook his head and pushed his way through his fellow celebrating Housemates to her. She instantly threw her arms around his neck and gave him a knee weakening kiss, chasing all thoughts of Granger from his mind, even when she pulled back and smiled at him, letting him see once again the girl decked out in Gryffindor red and gold.

“Oi! Save that for your Common Room!” someone called out.

“Let’s move this party!” someone else shouted.

Hermione blushed, burying her face in Draco’s shoulder. Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her with the mob into the castle, feeling as if he was walking on sunshine.

“Isn’t there a song about walking on sunshine?” Draco asked as they headed up the stairs.

“Yes, it’s a Muggle song,” Hermione slowly said.

“ _I’m walking on sunshine, whoa! I’m walking on sunshine, whoa! And don’t I feel good!_ Or something like that,” Harry said, tossing himself between the pair and hooking his arms around their shoulders (or well he tried, but he couldn’t exactly easily reach Draco’s shoulder so he settled for his waist). “We won!”

Draco and Harry broke away once they reached the Common Room, escaping to their dormitory to shower and change (as they’d missed the changing rooms). Upon rejoining the festivities in the Common Room, Draco found himself swept up in cheers and clapping. Harry got lost somewhere with the Creevey brothers who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis as well as a large group of girls who seemed to think that laughing at everything Harry said and batting their eyelashes would get Harry’s attention. Draco found himself watching this amusing scene ensconced in a window seat with Hermione curled up next to him and Tom brooding on her other side.

“Ah, there, he’s escaped,” Hermione commented as Harry did in fact break away from a girl with long, curly raven hair, who’d been hanging off his arm for the last twenty minutes. Harry made a beeline for them, collapsing almost on top of Tom and burying his face in his friend’s neck. Tom froze, his blue eyes going wide.

“Save me,” Harry moaned. “What do they think batting their eyelashes will do? They just look like they’ve got something stuck in their eyes.”

Hermione sighed, pushing herself up to sit properly. “Harry, they bat their eyelashes at you because they find you attractive.”

Harry peaked over Tom’s shoulder at her, giving her a look like he didn’t comprehend what she was saying.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the Chosen One, remember? And you’ve grown a few inches. You’ve never been more attractive.”

Draco cleared his throat.

“To others,” she added, punching him lightly in the arm and giving him a smile he was realizing she only gave to him. She turned back to Harry, who had once more buried his face in the crook of Tom’s neck. “You best find someone to take to Slughorn’s party and soon, as they’re all going to be out for your head.”

She cast her brown eyes back towards the group of girls, who were all watching Harry and Tom with looks of displeasure on their faces.

“But, I don’t want to take any of them,” Harry mumbled into Tom’s neck, which made Tom jerk strangely, which knocked Harry off and face first into his lap.

Draco chocked.

Tom leapt to his feet and walked away off with as much grace as possible. The eyes of the girls followed him for a moment before latching back onto Harry, who was now lying on the floor staring at the ceiling with a confused look on his face.

“Did I do something to Tom?”

“No, Harry,” Hermione assured. “You’re just yourself, which is the problem.”

Harry looked even more bemused, but pushed himself up onto his elbows before getting up and heading off to where the drinks were stored, dodging artfully several of his fans.

* * *

“Did you see it?”

“See what?”

“The notice hanging in the Great Hall!” Harry exclaimed. “Tom said that he’d talked to the professors about setting up a dueling club and it starts next week. I signed us up.”

“Oh?” Draco inquired. “What if I didn’t want to join?”

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment.

“I’ll go cross your name off.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll join. It’ll be nice to join a sanctioned club for once.”

“Chess Club was sanctioned.”

“Not for what we used it for.”

Harry made a noise of protest through his nose, then scampered off when his fan club showed up for breakfast.

* * *

Dueling Club (no creative name, alas) was led by Snape and Flitwick, as well as Tom, who was standing up on the platform between the two professors. Flitwick rubbed his hands together, looking around the Great Hall at the gathered students. Unlike the last time the school had a Dueling Club, Draco could already tell this one would actually teach the students how to duel as oppose to resulting in mass chaos— mostly because upon entering they were sorted by year. Last time there were no directions other than to stare at Lockhart. 

“Welcome! Welcome!” Flitwick squeaked, making the whole room fall silent. “Some of you might remember a few years ago we tried to form a Dueling Club, but it never really got off the ground. Mr Riddle has suggested we try once again, and I for one am quite excited.”

The tiny man bounced.

“We’ve already sorted you by year, next Professor Snape and I will sort you by skill level. Find a partner within your year.”

After the flurry of movement was complete, the hall fell silence once again. Snape and Flitwick stood at opposite ends of the platform and Tom had vanished.

“While some of you might know how to begin a duel, we will remind those of you who already know and teach those who do not,” Flitwick explained. “Nothing complicated now, Severus.”

Snape bowed, followed by Flitwick. Then both took the stance and began to duel. For the younger kids, they both shouted their spells and the spells they used were all first year spells. Once they were done (Flitwick won), the professors moved through the assembled students as they began to duel. Draco was paired with Neville, as no one as usual wanted to be Neville’s partner.

Fools.

“Mr Longbottom!” Flitwick squeaked, appearing out of nowhere as Neville landed a hit with a stinging hex Draco failed to shield. “You are quite the dueler! Good! Good! Keep Mr Malfoy on his toes!”

Neville beamed.

“I told you,” Draco bragged, rubbing his hand where the hex had hit.

“Sorry,” Neville apologized quickly. “I mean, for hitting you. I should be thanking you for working with me so hard over the years. And last year. You and Harry taught me a lot.”

“Taught all us old Chess Club lags,” Macmillian offered from next to Draco where he was paired off with another Hufflepuff.

“Hello.”

Draco managed not to scream when Tom appeared behind him.

“What are you doing?” Draco hissed.

“Observing,” Tom lied.

“Really?”

“I told you I’m building an army.”

“Can I join?”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You’re building an army?” Macmillian asked, looking skeptical. “Why ever would you do that?”

“To fight Voldemort, of course.”

Macmillian and his partner shivered, but Neville looked thoughtful.

“Like we were doing last year?” Neville asked. “Good idea.”

“Yes.”

“He won’t come here,” Macmillian insisted, the other Hufflepuff nodding.

Tom quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, he will. Dumbledore is here, we are here, the future is here.”

Macmillian looked as ifhe might faint.

“Tom,” Draco warned.

“I only will take the strong and brave.”

“So only Gryffindors?” another voice drawled.

Blaise Zabini materalized next to Tom, twirling his wand.

“No.”

Without further explication, Tom moved off.

“Where did he come from?” Zabini inquired, turning to Draco.

“Glasgow.”

Zabini appeared as if he wasn’t sure if Draco was telling the truth or lying.

“Mr Zabini, why is Mr Weasley covered in boils?” Snape asked stalking towards them.

“Because I hit him and he doesn’t know the counter curse.”

Zabini wandered off to help his friend while Snape swooped after Tom, who was darting between other pairs, clearly taking mental notes on who he wanted for his so called army.

“He is serious, isn’t he? That Riddle boy,” the Hufflepuff girl clarified. “About…Vo-Vo-Voldemort coming here?”

MacMillian swayed on his feet and turned white as a sheet.

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “And while we might not know Riddle well just yet, Harry does and Harry agrees with his thinking.”

“Harry’s here,” the girl breathed, her brown eyes going wide as she looked at Neville. “It’s honestly amazing he hasn’t attacked the school directly before.”

“Dumbledore’s here,” MacMillian quickly said, trying to sound calm. “We should be dueling.”

“He won’t always be here,” Neville said, sounding grave. “We all saw his hand at the start of term feast. His days are numbered.”

Macmillian looked furious, but didn’t appear to have anything to refute the statement.

“Oh, no,” the Hufflepuff girl breathed, her hand covering her mouth. “You’re right. I might not be clever, but I know a terminal curse when I see one. My aunt is a Healer and I want to be one too. I studied a lot over the summer, you know her old textbooks. And a blackened limb? Means the curse is terminal and the limb is already dead.”

Macmillian shook his head in denial.

“You’re clever, Hannah,” Neville said to the girl. “Very clever.”

She blushed and stared at her feet for a second before looking at Draco. “You think he’ll take me? Riddle, I mean. For his army?”

Draco stared at the girl and nodded. “You heard him. Strong and brave.”

She smiled.

* * *

“You’re mental.”

“I know.”

“Why did I ever agree to this?”

“Because Addy told you to trust me and for some unknown reason you did.”

“I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t. You want him dead as much as we do and know everyone, no matter how old they are, needs to be prepared.”

“But to agree to create an elite army of children…”

“Severus—”

“Professor Snape,” the older man snapped.

“Professor Snape,” Tom corrected, “we both know he will strike here. It’s why he’s assigned Nott the job of getting rid of Dumbledore.”

“Correct.”

“He wants this school. It was…his home,” Tom allowed. “But it is not his home any longer. He graduated and now we inhabit this school, and our children will attend this school and it will be free from his presence.”

“Your children maybe. I plan to have none,” Snape grumbled. “Fine. Have you chosen your subgroup?”

“Yes,” Tom said, handing over sheet of notebook paper. “These are the people I believe best to defend this school come summer along with the Order.”

Snape took the list and stared at it. “They are all different years.”

“Yes. Many of them were members of the Muggle Chess Club last year. Several were not, but showed potential and seemed open to the idea of defending the school.”

“You are mental,” Snape muttered again, pocketing the list. “Completely, utterly mental.”

“No, Professor Snape, I am the sane one of the pair of us,” Tom breezily said before turning away and exiting the Great Hall. He grinned as he headed back up to the tower.

* * *

The next week, the group Tom had chosen was moved over to a corner of the Great Hall and cut off from the rest of the group. There, Snape explained what he was going to teach them and train them to be able to do.

“You sound like Professor Moody,” someone whispered.

Snape, having super hearing, heard this and looked at the Ravenclaw who’d spoken.

“He had the right idea. It is an almost impossible task to ask you to defend this school against the Death Eaters let alone…what do you call him Mr Potter?”

Harry turned pink and answered, “Marv, sir.”

“Marv. How wonderfully stupid,” Snape proclaimed. “But, better than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So, Marv and his—“

“Death Munchers.”

“Death Munchers,” Snape sighed, pinching his nose. “Fine. Marv and his Death Munchers.”

“Why are you calling them that?” Zabini asked.

“They’re stupid names to begin with, but feared, so to take away the fear, we call them silly things,” Harry replied.

“Shouldn’t they be feared?” the Hufflepuff girl asked. She was standing next to Neville.

“Not feared, no,” Snape allowed. “They want you to fear them, want you to fear them to the point they will win easily. Fear will make you weak.”

Several people gulped.

Snape regarded the group for a moment before he began to speak again, sounding as if he was teaching a lesson of DADA. The entire group hung on his every word and when it came time to practice the spells Snape had set for them, everyone tried their hardest to cast them without speaking, even the few third and fourth years who were in the group.

* * *

“So, how was the club tonight, Severus?”

“Trying.”

“Really?”

“I do not know why you agreed to this. It is foolish to think the children will be able to defend the school. They are not Aurors.”

“Severus, if you had had the chance to defend the school when you were a pupil, would you have leapt at the chance?”

Severus was quiet, staring at the old man.

“See. You would. You do so now,” Dumbledore went on. “How is Mr Nott?”

“Failing all his classes and getting thinner and more desperate by the day. We should step in and stop him.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Not until we can get his aunt to safety. You’ve not found her yet?”

“No. I am not permitted free reign when I visit the manor,” Snape admitted.

“Is he onto you?”

“No. He is too arrogant to believe I could fool him,” Snape said. “I’ve not seen Nott’s aunt nor the Nott’s House Elf since Ms Nott extracted the Unbreakable Vow from me. Since then, she’s been locked away and I fear the House Elf is dead. I believe Bellatrix saw us and tattled.”

“Ah. Well, hopefully Ms Nott is still alive.”

“Where did Tom Riddle really come from?”

“He’s a potion accident,” Dumbledore replied.

Severus glared. “He is not.”

“Oh, but he is. Cassiopeia Black made something rather foul, let it sit on the shelf for a decade or two, and Atlanta D Black knocked it over and onto a sketchbook Walburga Black had kept as a girl. The drawing it soaked was one of Tom Riddle. The combination of whatever Walbruga did to animate the drawing, Atlanta D Black’s magic, and the potion created Tom Riddle.”

“So he’s forever stuck as a teenager?”

“No. He’s alive now. He wasn’t until last spring, when Miss Lupin died, she gave him life. I’m not quite sure how, but she removed the horcrux from Harry and used it to create Tom’s human body.”

Severus felt sick. “So, he’s a living horcrux? Wait, Potter was a horcrux?”

“No, Tom’s just a boy. The soul bit that was stored within Harry — yes, Harry was a horcrux— belonged to him, so he did not become a horcrux, but assimilated it into his own soul. The act of giving her life for him, along with the horcrux soul bit, gave Tom his body. Does he feel evil to you?”

“No,” Severus grumbled. 

“They are both just boys now,” Dumbledore sighed, swirling the glass of wine in his left hand. “Not that will stop Voldemort from coming after Harry.”

Severus nodded.

“Or this school. I believe Tom’s right about Voldemort wanting the school rather than the wizarding world at large.”

“What would he want with the school?”

“To turn out children who are like minded to himself,” Dumbledore replied.


	14. Slughorn Throws a Party and Tom Runs Away

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

A few days after their last Dueling Club meeting, Draco was seated in the library with Hermione and Harry, who was reading the book they were to have read for Charms the next morning as if his life depended on it. Hermione was flipping through her Potions book, comparing it Draco’s.

“Snape is really a genius. How did I not realize he wasn’t following the textbook when he was our professor?” she muttered, writing down a few of the suggestions he had in the margins of her own book. “Oh, Harry, be careful what you drink.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“I overheard Romilda Vane. Sounds like she’s getting desperate,” Hermione went on, shutting Draco’s Potions book as well as her own. She pushed the books away and grabbed her Arithmancy textbook. “She’s claiming to have ordered a love potion from Fred and George.”

Harry’s green eye went wide. “What? Why didn’t you confiscate it?”

Hermione snorted, rolling out her Arithmancy essay. “She didn’t have the potion on her in the loo. She was simply discussing tactics with a few other girls.”

“I thought anything bought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was banned?”

“Has anyone ever paid any attention to whatever is banned?” Hermione huffed.

“I thought owls were being searched?”

“They are,” Draco answered for Hermione, who looked as if she was getting to an important bit of her essay. He idly flipped the pages of the Half-Prince’s book. “The twins send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions. It’s part of their Owl Order Service.”

Harry made a pitiful noise and threw his head on the table. Hermione tutted.

“Just ask Tom and be done.”

“Tom?” Harry asked, raising his head, eyes wild and wide.

Hermione tutted again, shaking her head, sending her bushy hair flying. Draco loved when she did this because he got a whiff of her shampoo.

“Of course you could ask someone else,” Hermione blithely went on, not paying attention to her friend’s silent freak out.

“Why wouldn’t Flich’s scanner thingy pick up on the potions? I mean, love potions are dangerous,” Harry said, his voice getting higher with each word.

“They’re not Dark Magic or Dark objects,” Draco pointed out. “Something like a love potion or something in the wrong bottle wouldn’t register.”

Harry’s eyes darted left and right as he jerked his head from side to side. 

“Just ask Tom,” Hermione repeated. “You can go as friends.”

“What else would we go as?” Harry asked, looking honestly bewildered.

Hermione stopped what she was writing and stared at Harry as if he was the densest person on the globe.

Draco snickered, causing Harry to cast him a confused glance.

“Harry, you are an idiot,” Hermione proclaimed, slamming her book shut. “Library is closing shortly. Draco, hide that book or Madam Pince is going to have a fit.”

Draco quickly closed the Half-Prince’s book just in time, as Madam Pince came swooping in to kick them out. The trio packed up their belongings and headed out. Hermione bade them good night, giving Draco a peck on the cheek before he headed off up to Ravenclaw Tower. Harry and Draco walked in silence until Harry asked, “You both think Tom likes me, don’t you?”

“We both think you like him as well, Harry. While I do not want to tell you how you feel, I do believe you harbor stronger feelings for Tom.”

“What? No. That’s…no. He’s just my mate.”

Draco flipped his hair out of his eyes and gave Harry a look. Harry scratched his head, then messed up his own hair.

“Harry, you no longer have to share a bed with Tom, yet more often than not, he’s in your bed when I wake up.”

“He is not,” Harry said, turning six shades of red. “Baubles.”

Draco startled. They had reached the Fat Lady.

“Same to you,” the Fat Lady said with a roguish grin as she swung the door open to admit them.

“Hi, Harry!” Romilda Vane greeted the moment Harry had climbed through. “Fancy a gillywater?”

Draco snorted as Harry quickly declined and escaped, though not before Vane had thrust a package of Chocolate Cauldrons into his hands. She smugly smiled and flounced off back to her friends, who all looked ten kinds of jealous. Shaking his head, Draco headed up to the dormitory. He did so quietly and caught Harry standing next to his bed, staring at Tom’s sleeping face. Tom was sleeping (oddly) in his own bed. Draco remained in the doorway, watching Harry’s back till Harry sagged and turned to his own bed, getting in and tightly shutting the curtains. Shaking his head, Draco made his way into the dormitory fully and got ready for bed.

When Draco woke the next morning, early in order to finish his homework while drinking his morning coffee, he noted that Harry was not in his own bed, but in Tom’s, though on top of the covers rather than under them. Closing Tom’s curtains tightly where Harry had left them open, Draco turned and headed for the Great Hall.

While Draco was by no means a morning person, since starting to date Hermione, he got up early most mornings to join her at the Ravenclaw table for coffee and homework before breakfast was served. It seemed to be a tradition among the upper years, as there were people scattered at all the House tables, save Griffyndor. 

“So, did Harry finally admit his feelings?” Hermione asked without looking up.

“I don’t think so, but he did give into the need to share a bed with Tom after trying to fight it,” Draco said as he sat down. “I don’t think Harry’s really in touch with his emotions.”

“No, I doubt it. He represses with the best of them. Why does he always end up sharing with Tom?”

Draco shrugged. “Habit? Though, last night he seemed to make up his mind he wasn’t going to do it any longer, as he got into his own bed, even though only I was missing when we arrived to last night.”

“Really, the others all went to bed early?”

Draco nodded, pouring himself an extra large mug of coffee.

“Who’d Harry ask last time?” Hermione asked, biting her lip as she continued her Arithmancy essay.

“No idea,” Draco reminded her. “While I did gate crash, I didn’t stay nor did I pay any attention to what was going on.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione sighed, looking up at him with her big chocolate eyes.

Draco shrugged, getting out his own essay to work on. They fell into silence and continued working till breakfast was served. Hermione continued to read throughout the meal, but Draco took a break to have a bewildering conversation with Luna, which left him completely befuddled on what they’d spent the past half hour speaking about.

* * *

“He’ll never ask him.”

Draco leapt out of his skin as Luna materialized behind him as he left Transfiguration.

“Oh! Did you dye your eyebrows for the holidays?” Luna inquired eagerly.

“What? Oh, no,” Draco said, wondering where Harry and Tom had gone. Hermione had raced out of the classroom as soon as McGonagall dismissed them, mostly because Brown and Patil were giggling at whatever she’d transfigured on her face and she likely wanted to put herself right without an audience.

“Oh, too bad. It’s very festive,” Luna said.

“Er, thanks.”

“How have you been?”

“Fine. We spoke this morning,” Draco reminded the girl.

“Oh, yes, but you were very confused by our conversation. Do you understand now?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Luna said dreamily. “But, he’ll never ask him.”

“I know.”

Luna sighed. “He will ask me. He won’t mean to, but he will. The dust told me. Best be off to find him.”

Luna skipped off, leaving Draco blinking dumbly at her back till her blond hair whipped around the corner and out of sight.

Later, when he saw Harry in the Common Room, he wasn’t all that surprised when Harry told him he’d asked Luna to go with him.

“As friends,” he quickly added, glancing at Tom, who was busy writing an essay.

“I know,” Tom proclaimed as if he was announcing the winners of a Quidditch match. “It’s all over school because Peeves witnessed you asking.”

Tom was writing at breakneck speed, neatly as ever.

“It just kind of popped out,” Harry defended, looking hurt by Tom’s reaction. “But, at least I’ve got someone to go with and those other girls will leave me be.”

Tom snorted, waving his wand to dry the ink. He rolled up the parchment with a snap.

“What? Yes, they will,” Harry insisted, jutting his chin out.

“No, they won’t,” Tom darkly muttered. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

And off he flounced.

“What’s up with him?”

Draco let his head fall onto the table and let out a loud, long groan.

* * *

“I did it.”

Draco looked up in surprise when Ginny plopped down next to him on the bench after Quidditch practice.

“Did what?”

“I asked Tom to go with me to Slughorn’s party,” Ginny announced merrily.

Draco blinked. “Pardon me?”

“He was so nettled that Harry failed to ask him, I asked him so he could go. Dean didn’t want to go anyhow. Slughorn’s fawning makes him uncomfortable. He seemed fine with me asking Tom as a ploy to get him and Harry alone in a…festive setting.”

Draco snorted, “They’re that obvious? I figured it was only Hermione and myself who saw it.”

Ginny snorted, shaking her head as she removed her wrist guards. “I’m pretty sure the entire world knows, other than Harry. I’m sure Tom’s admitted it to himself.”

“You don’t even like Tom,” Draco pointed out.

“He likes Harry,” Ginny shrugged, removing the shin guards and lobbing them into her locker. “I’m a sucker for this kind of thing, being a closet romantic and all. Shh, don’t tell my brothers. It’ll totally disgust them and they’ll mock me for the rest of my life.”

Draco shook his head. “Dean’s really okay with it?”

“Yeah. I told him what I was doing and he knows Tom gives me the creeps. Mostly because I am sure Tom gives everyone other than Harry the creeps.”

Draco bowed his head in agreement, removing his own wrist guards and placing them in his locker. He stood up and pulled his Quidditch robes over his head.

“Well, Slughorn’s party shall be interesting, shan’t it?”

Ginny grinned. “Of course. Maybe I’ll bring some fireworks?”

* * *

The night of the party, Draco and Harry arrived in the Entrance Hall at eight o’clock sharp. There were a number of girls lurking about, quite a few staring resentfully at Luna and Hermione as the pair of boys approached them. Luna was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting attention from the girls who were giggling rudely, not that Luna noticed. Hermione, though, looked gorgeous. She was dressed in dark blue dress robes that had a bit of sparkle to them and accented her figure— somehow. Hermione smiled as Draco neared.

“I’m glad I took fashion advice from Addy,” Hermione said, smiling Draco’s smile for him. “I like your reaction.”

Draco nodded, unsure he could speak.

“Uh, hi. Shall we go?” Harry asked awkwardly, pulling on the too short cuffs of his dress robes.

“Oh, yes!” Luna happily said. “Where is the party?”

“Slughorn’s office,” Harry said, looking self-conscious as he tried to figure out if he should offer his arm or not to Luna.

Luna solved this by skipping off in the direction of Slughorn’s office. Draco offered his arm to Hermione, who slipped her arm through his, moved close and gave him a whiff of the perfume she’d worn for the night. It was something different, dark and exotic.

He loved it.

“Did you hear there was supposed to be a vampire there?” Harry asked, trying to keep up with the skipping Luna while at the same time stay with Draco and Hermione.

Luna turned, smiling as she skipped backwards. “Rufus Scrimgeour?”

“I— what?” Harry asked, disconcerted. “You mean the Minister of Magic?”

“Yes, he’s a vampire,” Luna stated matter-of-factly. “Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn’t want the truth out.”

Harry gave Draco and Hermione a questioning look. Hermione shook her head and Draco shrugged. While he didn’t think Scrimgeour was a vampire, he wasn’t going to argue with Luna who usually agreed with whatever strange views her father took. They were nearing Slughorn’s office, which was not located in the dank, dark dungeons like Snape’s. Slughorn preferred an office on the third floor and it was currently filled with laughter, music, and loud conversation— things that would never sound in the dungeons where Snape lurked. 

Slughron’s office, when they entered, Draco noted was larger than usual. The ceiling and walls had been draped in emerald, crimson, and gold hangings making the room appear as if it were a large tent. The room itself was crowded and stuffy, bathed in a red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling. There were actual fairies fluttering around in the lamp, each a brilliant speck of light. In a corner there were musicians playing mandolins, while the haze of pipe smoke was thick over a group of several old warlocks who were in deep conversations. There were a number of House Elves negotiating their way through the forest of knees with heavy sliver platters of food held over their heads so they looked like moving tables of food.

“Harry, m’boy!” boomed Slughorn the moment Harry crossed the threshold. “Come in! Come in! So many people I’d like you to meet!”

Slughorn, who was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his much too small smoking jacket, grabbed Harry and whisked him off, though not before Harry had seized Luna’s hand. Hermione shook her head and grabbed two red drinks off one of the passing trays, handing it to Draco. She took a sip and made an appreciative noise, so Draco took a sip. Whatever it was, was way too sweet for him.

“Let’s see if we can find Ginny and Tom,” Hermione suggested.

They wove their way through the crowd, Hermione greeting a few adults she’d clearly met at various Slug Club meetings, till they found Tom brooding moodily by the window, which someone had opened in hopes of cooling the crowded room down. The chilly air was thick and strong around Tom, as if he himself was issuing the cold.

“Good evening, Tom,” Hermione greeted, dragging Draco behind her. “You look handsome.”

Tom looked down at Hermione. He did not look pleased by the compliment. His blue eyes scanned Hermione.

“You look beautiful,” he stated plainly. “Though, I am sure you know this and your date told you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be charming,” Draco drawled.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs as she asked, “Where’s Ginny?”

“Hiding from McLaggen,” Tom said, sounding bored and turning his gaze back to glaring at the crowd of merry makers.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“McLaggen is under the assumption that since Ginny brought me, she’s a free agent from Thomas.”

“He’s a brute,” Draco agreed, trading the sugar drink for a goblet of mead as it passed. Mead was much more his thing.

Tom made a noise of agreement.

“I don’t know why I agreed to come to this thing,” Tom muttered. “I hated them before, I hate them now.”

“You’re kind of a misanthrope at heart, huh?” Hermione teased.

Tom quirked one corner of his mouth up and nodded. “That I am.”

Hermione dropped Draco’s hand, reached out, and grabbed Tom’s, squeezing it gently.

“I hate being a teenager,” he whispered furiously.

“Me too,” Draco agreed, knocking back his mead.

The three fell silence, Hermione and Draco both drinking their respective drinks and Tom brooding between them. After a quarter hour, there was an interruption caused by Nott gate crashing. Snape vanished with Nott, and Harry shortly after. Luna drifted over to where they stood, smiling vaguely.

“Harry’s gone to investigate what Nott is really up to,” Luna supplied. “Hello, Tom. You look lovely. Are those green robes?”

She bent very closely and ran a finger along Tom’s arm, which he allowed with a look of slight confusion on his face.

“They are green! How lovely,” she praised. “This party is nice. I’ve never really been to one, well, save the ball fourth year. Did you go to that?”

She was looking at Tom, knowing full well Draco and Hermione were there, Draco being Luna’s date.

“No. We went home that holiday.”

“Oh, yes. Atlanta went home with a flimsily excuse her father wanted her there,” Luna said. “Why did you go home?”

“To do a handwriting spell to find out who had entered Harry in the tournament,” Tom supplied without missing a beat.

“Oh! I’ve heard of that spell. You and your friend invented it, did you not?”

Tom nodded.

“It worked,” Luna proclaimed, clapping her hands. “Brilliant. This is so much more fun.”

“Then what?” Hermione asked.

“Than last time. Also, I’ve got friends much more earlier. Oh! I must continue my conversation with Professor Trelawney. I don’t have her this year.”

Luna flounced off, leaving Hermione gaping.

“And that is why Harry believes she’s Time,” Tom mused, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss Granger! There you are!” Slughorn boomed, bustling over to their corner of the party. He froze for a moment when he spotted Tom, but chose to approch. “I have someone I’d love to introduce you to! Who is you’re date?”

He glanced between Tom, who Hermione was standing next to, and Draco, who he looked like he hoped was Hermione’s date.

“Draco,” Hermione said, moving and taking Draco’s hand.

“Lovely! Good pair!” Slughorn proclaimed. “Follow me! Follow me!”

Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand and dragged him off to socialize.

* * *

Tom was about to leave when Harry stumbled into him. After righting Boy Wonder, he studied him carefully.

“What did you hear?” he asked.

“Snape made an Unbreakable Vow,” Harry whispered. “He met with Nott’s aunt, who I guess raised him or something, I don’t know, but it’s his aunt Voldemort his holding hostage, I guess. But, Snape made an Unbreakable Vow. So, it’s going to happen just like before when Nott fails. Is it weird I’m glad someone made Snape take an Unbreakable Vow for Nott?”

Tom squeezed Harry’s shoulder, warmth flooding him as he softly smiled down at the smaller boy.

“No. Not at all. It’s part of your compassion, or you being human, as you oft to tell me,” Tom said, letting go before he touched Harry for too long. It was hard to tell these days was passed as casual and what was more intimate, especially with Harry who had always been hands on with Tom.

Harry took a step closer. “Nott said he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t working alone. That he had all the help he needed. I mean, he said he had Crabbe and Goyle? I can’t imagine they’d be much help, so he must have someone else.”

Tom took a step backwards, towards the open window letting in the winter air. He ought to be freezing, but in fact he felt overly warm. Likely due to the crowded room.

Harry followed, not seeming to notice the chilly breeze ruffling his hair, which he hadn’t bothered to style when he’d donned his dress robes— which were a little small in the arm and chest and about three inches too short. Likely hadn’t bought new ones since he’d gotten the first pair fourth year. 

“I mean, they didn’t even pass their DADA OWL, so they have to retake it this year. Honestly,” Harry scoffed, moving till he was standing right next to Tom, pressing into his side.

If he was doing this without notice or on purpose, Tom wasn’t sure. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He should never have let Ginny Weasley talk him into this.

“I wonder if Draco was such a snot nose brat,” Harry pondered, leaning into Tom.

Tom was sure Harry didn’t realize he what he was doing.

“He was speaking like a spoilt brat to Snape. I’m honestly amazed the man didn’t hex him or something,” Harry went on. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Yes. I’d rather be cold and breathe fresh air.”

“Why’d you come if you were just going to hang out by the window all night?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Harry was quiet for a moment before he added, “I didn’t think you’d want to come. If I’d known, I’d ask you, but then Luna wouldn’t have been able to come and she looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

Tom scanned the room and easily found Luna dancing in the center of the room, the other patrons giving her large berth as she twirled around, waving her arms above her head. Tom smiled, watching the free spirit be herself in a room full of people hindered by society norms.

“It’s fine, Harry. I’m glad you requested Luna’s presence,” Tom said honestly.

Harry folded his arms across his chest and shivered. Tom shook his head and grabbed him by the shoulders, moving him to stand in front of him, so Tom’s body blocked most of the wintery chill.

“Tom?”

“Yes?”

Tom looked down at Harry to find him scratching his forehead, near where the scar was located. Tom furrowed his brow.

“Does your scar hurt?”

“What? No. I mean, it’s even fading a little, but no. I was…thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself then,” Tom drawled.

Harry huffed, folding his arms across his chest once more. He glanced around, green eyes darting back and forth before he leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you like me?”

Tom wanted to scream, tear his hair out, then stomp on his heart to make it stop beating out of rhythm.

“Of course, now excuse me.”

Tom fled like the coward he was.

 


	15. A Cold and Frosty Morning

_**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.** _

* * *

The morning after Slughorn’s party, Draco woke to find a rather distraught Harry Potter and a MIA Tom Riddle. After making sure Harry was at least packed to go home, Draco dragged the melancholy boy down to Professor McGonagall and asked if she knew where Tom was, to which she replied, “He went home earlier this morning. His father requested him home last night. I sent him through my fire early this morning.”

Harry’s face fell, more if possible. Draco grabbed him and towed him off to the carriages. Harry was morose the entire ride home and was now sitting at the kitchen table ignoring his hot chocolate. Dobby looked particularly worried he’d done something wrong since usually Harry inhaled Dobby’s hot chocolate.

“Harry!” Sirius boomed, entering the kitchen with a clatter. “How—did someone die?”

“Tragically no,” Draco offered. Sirius turned to Draco with wide eyes, so Draco added, “Tom wasn’t around this morning. McGonagall told us his father requested he floo home as soon as possible.”

Sirius frowned deeply, flopping his too-long hair out of his eyes. “Why…why would he do that? I mean, he’d have to tell Remus to request him to come home, as I doubt Remus would want him around longer than he had to be. Then again, I think Remus likes Tom.”

Draco shrugged, looking for Harry for an answer, but all Harry did was push the hot chocolate away and slouched out of the kitchen passed a bewildered Sirius. Dobby let out a muted wail. Before Dobby could do something stupid like punishing himself for no reason, Draco swiped the mug and chugged half of it down.

“Nothing wrong with it Dobby. Harry’s clearly not in the mood for anything good,” Draco proclaimed and the little elf sagged in relief.

“Why doesn’t he go see him if— oh. You guys can’t, can you?” Sirius asked, sitting down and taking the half drunk mug from Draco and finishing it off.

Dobby looked delighted and scurried off to wherever he went when he wasn’t in the kitchen lurking.

Draco shook his head. “Nope. Addy didn’t share her address with us. I’m sure only you and Lupin know where she and Tom currently are.”

“She told Reggie,” Sirius said. “I’ll go over there now, see what the four-one-one is.”

He looked a little eager for an excuse to go see Lupin, so Draco didn’t stop him by telling him he honestly didn’t care. Harry would care after he got over his strop.

Draco finished his own hot chocolate and headed upstairs to his room. After unpacking, he was about to crack open a book when Harry appeared in his doorway and asked, “What exactly is an Unbreakable Vow?”

“It’s one you cannot break unless you wish to die,” Draco said, closing his book.

“I worked that out for myself, funnily enough.”

“I tried to trick Atlanta into making one as a child.”

Harry looked alarmed.

“I didn’t manage. Lupin caught me. I’ve never seen the man angrier. Granted, I was five and didn’t really understand what I was doing, nor did Atlanta and the Bonder was Dobby who couldn’t say no to me, but I never tried to make another one.”

“What’s a Bonder?” Harry asked.

“The third party who actually does the spell. House Elves, since they are so magical, can act as Bonder without a wand because all the Bonder does is act as a conduit for the magic. When Snape made the Vow with Mother, it was likely Bellatrix who acted as Bonder, as she would have followed Mother on her mission to extract it from Snape.”

Harry nodded. “Snape made one with Nott’s aunt.”

“Nott’s aunt?”

Harry nodded, entering the room and sitting in an overstuffed chair. He sunk down into it, almost vanishing into the squashy pillows.

“I overheard Snape and Nott argue last night. Nott, of course, wouldn’t tell Snape what he’s doing, so Snape tried to show him how serious he was about helping by saying he’d made the Unbreakable Vow with Nott’s aunt.”

Draco nodded. He felt better knowing there was someone out there to make an Unbreakable Vow for Nott, someone who loved him enough to fear for him.

“Were you that snotty towards Snape?”

Draco felt himself color as he nodded. “I thought quite highly of myself at that point. I’d only had one failed attempt and I thought I was getting somewhere with the Vanishing Cabinet. Also, that was the afternoon I’d found the time travel potion kit.”

Harry blinked. “You found it that early, but didn’t use it till over a year later?”

Draco shrugged. “I didn’t think there was a need for it. I left it where it was till I went back for it later that night after I spent all afternoon and evening thinking about the potion kit. I was going to get it when Flinch found me and dragged me off to Snape. After, I forgot about the kit till in the spring when I wasn’t getting anywhere with the Vanishing Cabinet and the Dark One was threatening me daily via my mark. When I finally went looking, it took me weeks to find. I re-found it by total accident two days before I managed to fix the cabinet. I knew I was close when I re-found the kit, but kept it this time, as who knew what the future would hold? I was scared, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Over the summer, I snuck out of the house and hid in the woods, brewing the potion in a tent I’d mail-ordered.”

“One of those bigger on the inside ones?”

“Yes. It was better than being in the house, as after my failure my aunt took to hexing and cursing me every time she saw me.”

“So, you spent a lot of time alone in a tent in the woods brewing potions?”

“Yes.”

“And you still didn’t use it until the next summer?”

“It was still spring, but yes. It wasn’t until the battle I truly decided it was desperate enough to try. I didn’t know if it’d work or I’d kill myself.”

Harry nodded, looking sad. He sighed deeply and burrowed further into the chair’s pillows.

“I asked Tom.”

“You asked him what?”

Harry’s cheeks went pink and he kept his eyes glued to the carpet. “I…I found him by the window…I…well, I do like…he’s…”

Closing his mouth in frustration, Harry channeled a furious tomato.

“Did Tom not return your sentiment?” Draco guessed.

Harry pressed his lips together, folding his arms across his chest. “He said he liked me and ran off.”

“Ah.”

Harry stewed for a moment before he burst out with, “He ran off! And then he was gone! What the hell! He’s a guy! Why is he being all confusing like a girl!”

Draco managed not to snort or burst out laughing. He fought to keep his face sympathetic as possible.

“Maybe you ought to speak with your godfather after he returns. I think he’d be better at this than me.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend,” Harry said, glaring at him. “I’m not talking to Sirius about…this. He hates Tom. Tom hates him. No. I’m not talking to either of them about the other.”

Draco shrugged. “Yes, I’ve got a girlfriend. But, it’s been building for years and, if I’m honest, only really happened because of Hermione.”

Harry extended his head in agreement. He collapsed backward in misery.

“I…in the Muggle World…this isn’t….it’s not normal,” Harry whispered.

“What? To like a boy?” Draco asked, curious. He vaguely remembered a similar conversation when Harry had found out about Big Head Boy and Oliver Wood. Harry seemed scandalized, while Hermione was a little shocked.

Harry nodded.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but it’s not unheard of in our world. Nor is it frowned upon,” Draco shrugged. “Love is love. It’s a mystery and we’ve accepted we cannot control whom we love.”

“Don’t pureblood have arranged marriages and stuff?”

“Yes. That has nothing to do with love, Harry, and everything to do with carrying on bloodlines.”

“Was your mum’s marriage arranged?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. “Though, I do believe she did somewhat like my father before they were married. I’m pretty sure my aunt has no feelings towards her husband. Half the time she acted as if he wasn’t there. Likely still does.”

“She is crazy,” Harry offered.

“That she is. Also, I believe she fancies herself in love with Voldemort.”

Harry shuddered. “Why?”

“He’s everything she wants,” Draco shrugged. “I never knew her before her time in Azkaban, you must remember. She might have been a little different, though, I expect not judging from my mother’s behavior towards her. And from what Regulus and Sirius have shared, she’s always been mad and vindictive. But, my aunt and arranged marriages isn’t what you want to speak about, is it?”

“Never mind,” Harry grumbled, dragging himself out of the chair and heading for the door.

“Did you ever think, since Tom was raised in the Muggle World, he might be as conflicted about what he feels as yourself?”

Harry froze in the doorway, keeping his back to Draco.

“While I do not know a lot about the Muggle world, Hermione did share that there used to be laws against certain kinds of relationships. People were killed, imprisoned, or forced to take…potions to alter their…feelings, alter their…beings.”

Harry was rigid.

“That doesn’t happen in the wizarding world, but Tom was raised in the Muggle world. And then hid away. Feelings…feelings seem to be a new thing for him. Still.”

Harry sagged.

“Go find your godfather. While he might mock you or do something else beneath his age, he was once a teenager in love with his best friend.”

Harry turned, looking at Draco in confusion. “You’re my best friend. Hermione’s my best friend.”

“What is Tom, chopped toad liver?”

“No. He is…Tom.”

“Exactly. He’s something else and always has been. Ever since the days of you two writing to one another not knowing who one another really was.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t want to talk about feelings anymore.”

“What shall we talk about?”

“I dunno. Quidditch. I need to learn more about the leagues. I can’t be a novice forever.”

Harry came back into the room, sat in the chair, and listened as Draco waxed on about Quidditch for two hours till dinner was called.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Harry hadn’t solved his Tom issue, due to the fact Tom had evidently left the flat on Park Quad and went to Edinburgh to visit his old Spellmaster advisor.

“He seemed a bit off, I guess I should have pressed further,” Addy lamented when she’d shown up for the evening. “Flat Three, Seventeen Park Quad, Glasgow, Scotland.”

The entire room blinked. Narcissa looking utterly bewildered but Draco suddenly remembered knowing the address before Addy had randomly announced it.

“Thank you,” Draco voiced as Lupin shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“Tom will do as he pleases. He always has,” Lupin said, who looked thinner and more ragged than ever. He wearily took his eyes off Addy and looked at Sirius a moment before his eyes fell on Narcissa.

“What happened to you?” Harry blurted out before Lupin was able to greet the hostess.

Lupin chuckled and said, “Same as last war. I’m recruiting werewolves. Badly. Good evening, Narcissa. Thank you for inviting us this evening.”

Harry frowned. Addy looked mutinous but said nothing.

“You’re most welcome. Come along, let’s not remain in the Floo Room. It’s very drafty.” 

Narcissa hustled everyone upstairs to the sitting room for mulled wine and other holiday treats. They were not having a huge party for Christmas Eve or Christmas this year, thankfully, due to the state of open warfare in the wizarding community. Besides Lupin looking like death warmed over, both Narcissa and Sirius were exhausted and Regulus looked like he’d been hit by a truck at some point.

Draco tried not to think too hard about that and soon the group was ensconced in the sitting room listening to the wireless, which was playing a horrible singer Draco couldn’t stand. He wanted to stuff his ears with cotton she was so terrible.

Harry and Draco sat together, watching Sirius and Lupin attempt to play chess. Harry seemed to be watching them carefully as if waiting for them to burst into declarations of love. While Sirius was still doing the whole cow eyes, Lupin was oblivious. Addy was seated in the corner speaking to Regulus, who’d draped himself over her lap and was idly playing with the strings on the shirt she was wearing that were hanging off the hood attached to the back of it. Narcissa was sitting by the fire doing needlepoint while humming along with the horrible singer.

“This is strange,” Harry muttered.

“What?”

“Couples. Everywhere.”

“I don’t think Sirius and Lupin are a couple,” Draco pointed out as the floo rang out below them. Narcissa shot to her feet and hurried out of the room while Sirius looked confused.

“I believe my aunt and her family are here,” Draco loudly proclaimed. “The one who is not crazy.”

“Wocher, Harry!” Tonks greeted appearing, mosey haired as ever, yet a hopeful look on her face. “Draco!”

Draco stood to greet his cousin, aunt, and uncle. After exchanging greetings, Tonks eyed Lupin for a moment before being graciously offered a seat next to him by Sirius of all people. Addy shot Lupin a look, which he ignored. Andromeda rolled her eyes, shot Lupin an evil look, and sat down with Narcissa by the fire, while Ted Tonks awkwardly stood in the back of the room looking unsure where to go. Addy solved this, by pushing Regulus off of her lap and greeting the elder man by asking him something about football. He looked relieved to have someone to discuss something he knew something about with and sat down. Regulus clearly followed whatever football was, as he joined in the conversation. Draco rejoined Harry in the corner.

“He’s not coming,” Harry whispered, looking miserable.

Draco studied Harry carefully, taking note of the dark bags under the boy’s eyes. While Harry was never very well rested, he’d not looked this dreadful before the holidays.

“Have you slept at all?” Draco asked, noticing all the other signs of lack of sleep Harry was displaying.

Harry scowled, which was Draco’s answer.

“Tom helps you sleep,” Draco realized. “Or is it simply someone being there? I could…”

“It’s Tom,” Harry said quickly, appearing utterly embarrassed. “You’d just…it’d be too weird. I fell asleep while playing video games with Sirius last night and that didn’t help. It’s just…I don’t want things to change, but I…do…I’m…”

Draco nodded, not really needing Harry to explain. He had to do something for his best friend, though. He stood and exited the room, ignoring his mother’s calls as he marched up to his room. Upon entering, he picked up the Floo powder hidden there and tossed it into the fire, calling out the address for the Park Quad flat. He spun into the sitting room. He dusted himself off and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit flat. By the time his eyes fully adjusted he noticed Tom in a doorway, wand at his side.

“What are you doing here?” Tom sneered, pocketing his wand.

“You are an arse,” Draco proclaimed, crossing his arms across his chest. “A complete and utter arse.”

Tom did not reply.

“He can’t sleep, you know. He hasn’t since the night before we left Hogwarts,” Draco said, hoping that would make Tom feel guilty. “And having Addy lie to him, that was beneath you.”

Tom shifted a little, moving so his face was cast in the light.

Tom looked no better than Harry.

“You two need one another,” Draco quietly said.

Tom sneered, flashing his teeth.

“I’m serious,” Draco insisted. “I don’t know what you two feel, okay? And I don’t know why or how, but you two have some sort of connection.”

“I’m made out of his horcrux,” Tom groused.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “You incorporated that bit of soul into your own, you halfwit.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, if you truly were a horcrux, you’d be a little more like Voldemort. You are still yourself, as you always were and always will be. We’ve said this a few times to you, you love Harry. You care about him beyond friendship. You admit this and run off before he can say anything. What did you do?”

Tom stepped into the room, clenching his fists at his side and scowling deeply.

“I am not good for him! Why did he have to ask?” Tom seethed though his teeth.

“I know you hate being a teenager, so stop acting like one!” Draco shouted. “You claim you’re thirty something, but you’re acting like a fourteen-year-old girl!”

Tom chucked a nearby knick-knack at Draco’s head. Draco ducked as the item shattered in the fireplace behind him.

“Feel better?” Draco asked, slowly standing up.

“No.”

Draco sighed. “You both are making this harder than need be. You know what would have happened if you’d’ve stayed? Likely nothing, because Harry’s got the emotional range of a teaspoon!”

“Just because you—”

“This has nothing to do with me,” Draco snapped. “Do you think I want to be here talking about this? I don’t. I am uncomfortable and really, really wish to be elsewhere talking about anything else. But, I am here as Harry’s best friend because you both are miserable. If you do not come willing, I will stun you and drag you to Grimmauld Place.”

Tom looked outraged and went for his wand. Draco was quicker and stunned the twit. He walked over to Tom, nudging the prone form with his foot.

“I just stunned Tom Riddle,” Draco laughed, feeling a little giddy. “And now I’m going to kidnap him. How is this my life?”

Draco bent down and grabbed Tom by the ankles and dragged him to the fireplace. He took a pinch of powder off the mantle and called home. He kept hold of Tom’s ankles as they both spun. Tom likely hit his head a few times, judging by the huge bruise forming on his head when Draco fell out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. Luckily, the network spit out in his room instead of the Floo Room (smart fireplace), so Draco simply dragged Tom further into his room, cleaned him with a flick of his wand of the ash and soot, then headed downstairs to get Harry.

“Draco, where did you go?” Narcissa demanded. “We have guests.”

“And I apologize. I had to get something for Harry,” Draco said.

Addy smirked.

“Harry?”

Harry, looking a little bewildered, stood and followed Draco out of the room.

“My room. Take your time. You know how to un-stun someone right?”

Harry looked panicked and took off up the stairs. Smirking, Draco reentered the room and challenged Sirius to a chess match.

* * *

The next morning, upon waking at a decent hour, Draco debated on going upstairs to Harry’s room to open his presents with his best friend, but upon review, he opted to remain in his bedroom and opened the wide array of gifts gathered at the foot of his bed due to the fact Tom had not gone home the night before. Harry had returned to the gathering with Tom in tow and the pair had fallen asleep on the couch, cuddled up together in a sickeningly cute way that made Sirius and Tonks look jealous and Lupin uncomfortable.

Sirius had floated them both to bed, even as Narcissa frowned slightly while glancing at her sister, who just chuckled something about young love being foolish.

This year, Draco’s present pile was smaller than usual as there were no gifts from any of the Malfoy relatives. Not that he missed these things, as they were all worthless objects that usually spent time gathering dust around his wardrobe.

Now he had gifts he’d use from people he knew and liked. 

Addy replaced his broken DiskMan with a new one. It was alarmingly yellow. Harry had gifted him several new CDs, mostly from bands Draco had never heard of and were likely listened to by Harry and Addy. (They’d gone shopping together, so it made sense.) Hermione had gifted him with a multi-colored scarf that had a message embroidered along the edge in shorthand, which read: You Shall Always Wear a Scarf to Time Travel.

There was a joke he was missing somewhere.

Lupin had gifted him an array of books, mostly DADA, but there was one on spell making, which Draco spent twenty minutes leafing through before he realized he still had several presents left to get through.

Fred and George had given him a rather large supply of Instant Dark Powder. Useful.

Ginny had given him a miniature of a Firebolt and an IOU-a-broom-fulfilled card.

Draco laughed for ten minutes.

Luna, oddly, had given him a blue block with no explanation. He set it next to the mini Firebolt.

Mrs Weasley had sent him another jumper and a box of fudge, along with a note wishing him a happy Christmas and thank you so much for allowing Ginny a nice broom. He didn’t need to do that, but thank you anyhow. (Incase Ginny forgot to thank him.)

His mother had given him a brand new wand holder to wear around his wrist. It was, of course, made of the finest leather, dyed a lovely shade of blue that reminded Draco of the blue in Hermione’s Ravenclaw items.

He had a feeling his mother had chosen the shade of blue based on that. He closed his eyes tightly, knowing his mother already knew he was dating Hermione. How he wasn’t sure, but of course she’d know and tell him this way she approved.

Sirius gifted him a huge bag of various Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products, though he seemed to focus a lot on their DADA products.

Neville had sent him a selection of Honeydukes chocolates, while Tom had gifted him a recommendation for the internship at the Spellsmith’s headquarters for the summer, along with the actual application Draco had yet to fill out. Tom, of course, had written a terse note stating Draco better fill it out ASAP. 

Draco folded the recommendation and application up and set them and the blue block and mini Firebolt on the nightstand. He promised himself he’d fill the application out later. As he was about to head down for breakfast, he heard a buzzing coming from his bedside table. Thinking it was the block finally doing whatever it was supposed to, he turned only to find the block still being a block. He went over as the table rattled again, pulling the drawer open. Upon opening it and finding the drawer filled with a flashing blue light, he remembered he’d stashed the parchment in the drawer the night before after Hermione never answered him.

_Sorry, I didn’t write back sooner but been busy with holiday celebrations. Happy Christmas! The necklace is gorgeous._

Draco had gotten her a necklace with a simple arrow charm on it, which would point in whatever direction he was currently located. It was somewhat sappy, but he went for it.

_Please tell me you didn’t stun Tom and shove him and Harry in a room together. Please tell me you were joking._

**_No, sorry. I really did that. Happy Christmas to you, as well. I feel the scarf is a joke I’m not getting._ **

_Oh, yes. You ought to ask Addy. When faced with trying to figure out what to get you, I was somewhat stumped, but you’re always loosing your scarf, so this one you won’t loose. But, if you want to know the joke, ask Addy to show you Doctor Who._

**_Doctor What?_ **

_Just ask Addy. ;-)_

Draco rolled his eyes. Hermione had started making faces using punctuation. At first, Draco thought it was somewhat stupid, but then he realized when he’d see these things, he’d picture Hermione’s face doing the expression so he liked them. He didn’t use them, though.

**_Fine. I will._ **

Draco paused, wondering if he should say anything else. He wanted to tell her he missed her, but he thought that was a little too…needy. Or emotional.

**_I best be going to breakfast. Enjoy your day, and I’ll see you after the new yea_ r.**

_Yes, I better go as well. Happy Christmas and happy New Years, if I’m unable to speak to you till then._

**_Alright, goodbye._ **

_Goodbye._

Draco put the parchment back into the drawer and slowly shut it. He knew he had a dopey looking grin on his face, but he oddly didn’t care. He grabbed the scarf, flung it around his neck, and headed down to breakfast. Sirius looked up at his entrance and burst out into laughter. Narcissa frowned and glared at her cousin. Regulus looked baffled.

“I take it you understand the joke?” Draco drawled, sitting down at the table.

“Yeah. Addy was a sucker for this strange show about this guy who traveled around in a police box. He wore a floppy hat and had a scarf similar to that,” Sirius explained, motioning to the scarf around Draco’s neck. “He was a time traveler. Space and time, though. Not just time.”

“Hmmm,” Draco said, helping himself to coffee. “A police box? Those are the blue ones, right? Not the red?”

“Yes,” Regulus answered, his voice a little high and anxious. “The red ones are telephones. There're not many police boxes anymore.”

“Last spring there was a TV movie. Addy was really bent out of shape I didn’t watch it for her so I could tell her about it since she was a few months late to see it,” Sirius said, shrugging.

Draco shrugged as well, making Narcissa tut. Regulus made no noise other than to stab his plate and nervously look at the clock.

* * *

“REMUS!”

Remus sat up instantly, looking for the trouble, but saw nothing but a small pile of gifts at the foot of his bed.

“REMUS JOHN LUPIN! GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE!”

Remus blinked the sleep from his eyes and ran his hand through his graying hair a few times before his brain started operating and he realized why the voice was shouting at him. Gathering up his presents, he headed downstairs, careful not to trip over his own feet on the spiral staircase.

“There you are!” Addy exclaimed. “Tom’s not here, nor are his presents. Gotta love wizards, but I hate opening presents alone. Christmas is all about being together! Let’s be together under the tree!”

Remus watched in amusement as Addy bounced back into the lounge where the huge Christmas tree stood in the corner. Remus ambled after her, dumping his presents to join hers under the tree. He had a faint memory of his daughter demanding the same thing of him before she had started school. She didn’t understand why his presents always showed up at the foot of his bed while everyone else’s were under the tree. No matter how many times anyone, be it her mother, father, or her siblings, explained the fact Remus was British dictated how he celebrated the holidays, she refused to accept the information and demanded he join the family.

While it was clear Altair Black was uncomfortable with their male nanny joining in the family celebration, no one else cared and one frosty look from his wife, and Altair said no more on the matter and Remus spent the holidays with the family in the mornings.

“What did I do?”

Remus shook his head, looking at Addy in question.

“Nothing,” Remus insisted. “I’m fine.”

“No. No, you’re wearing that look you get when I do something like Atlanta did or something like that. I—”

“I know you are two different people, Addy love, but you cannot help that some of the things she did as a child are things you do today,” Remus quietly said. “On a base level, you are the same. You simply had different situations and circumstances growing up.”

Addy frowned, looking as if she was unsure how to proceed.

“I have many happy memories of being dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour by my charge and forced to open my presents, as few as they were, under the tree with her family.”

“Seriously? I tried to get Daddy to let Sookie join us, but he…well, least to say I never asked again.”

“I’m not a House Elf,” Remus gently pointed out, sitting down on the couch near the tree.

“You’re a werewolf.”

“True, but as long as Christmas wasn’t a full moon, I was more than happy to join the morning celebrations,” Remus said, picking up a package he assumed was a book from the shape of it.

Addy sat down on the floor at Remus’ feet.

“I hate reminding you, though,” Addy quietly admitted. “It feels like…bad taste or something.”

“You cannot help who you are,” Remus said, using his fingernail to slice through the Sellotape. “She used to remind me of you quite often. Granted, I didn’t realize you were the same person at this point, so I assumed she’d been named correctly.”

Addy smiled, grabbing up a package herself.

“You two look nothing alike,” Remus offered. “Well, you might, but for most of my life, I knew you with your glamours, and the last few years with Atlanta, she looked more like Tom than, well, what you look like now. It’s harder to look at Tom than you.”

Addy sighed. “Okay. Enough melodrama. Let’s be happy.”

Remus smiled softly, looking at the book he’d unwrapped. It was clearly from Tom, as it was the next edition of _The Slytherin Journals_. He set it to the side and grabbed up another package. Addy ripped into one of her presents at the same time, making a shocked noise upon getting it opened. Remus put aside the huge bag of expensive chocolates Sirius had gifted him and looked at Addy, who was holding an aged looking bit of parchment. Her mouth hung open and her amber eyes were huge. She looked up at Remus and opened and closed her mouth without making any noise. Remus reached forward and took the parchment from her, gasping upon seeing what as at the bottom of the House of Black Family Tree.

“They added you and Atlanta,” Remus whispered. “Is there a note?”

Addy searched through the wrapping paper and unearthed a rather fancy envelope. She tore it opened and gasped again upon getting the stationary out.

“It’s from Cassiopeia,” she breathed. “She wears the same scent.”

Remus waited for Addy to get a handle on herself. She stroked the heavy paper before she finally unfolded the note and began to read:

_Dear Adelaide,_

_I know you are not the same sister I knew who is now gone, but I would still like to extend a welcome to you into our family. Your blood is the same as ours and I know I speak for Dre as well as myself when I say we both wish to know you. I have added you, as well as your father and our sister, to our private family tree, a copy which I have enclosed for you. While I know you must keep your true identity a secret, you do not have to do so with Dre and I. When you have a free moment, please write back and let us know when best to introduce ourselves in person._

_Always,_

_Cassie_

“Cassie?” Addy asked after a long moment. “She goes by Cassie?”

“She always has, just as your brother goes by Dre.”

“They’re actually my cousins,” Addy quietly said. “Look, the family tree has you and Siria.”

Remus startled, noticing while Atlanta Siria Black was attached to Circe Hilderbatch and Altair Black via a line that indicated adoption as well as himself. Remus’ own name was attached to Siria Black and linked down to Adelaide (Atlanta) Dorothy (Siria) Lupin (Black).

“I guess this is how she found out,” Addy whispered, looking at the parchment in Remus’ hands.

“More than likely,” Remus said, tracing the line connected him to Atlanta. “The family tree at Grimmauld Place showed Regulus was alive after Narcissa fixed all the burn holes and Sirius simply thought Narcissa had broken it.”

“I actually broke it,” Addy said, cheeks turning pink. “Or, well, I made Kreacher break it. If we were to make everyone believe he was dead, the tapestry had to show it. Narcissa did fix it when she repaired the holes, as it showed Reggie was still alive and kicking.”

Remus nodded. “Just as the House of Black’s parchment announced your arrival.”

“I’m…are they really so different? They didn’t really care for me at all,” Addy said. “They were so much older than me and they lived…well, Cassiopeia was already at school and Dre didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“They were rather close to Atlanta,” Remus admitted. “Even though she spent most of her time in North Carolina and they were at school, but Cassie spent any free time she had at the sanctuary. Dre didn’t show much interest in Atlanta until she was older and it was clear she was Altair’s favorite.”

Addy stared at Remus and blinked. “His favorite?”

“I take it you didn’t have a close relationship with your father?”

“None of them,” Addy admitted. “I was closest to Sookie and my twin cousins.”

Remus furrowed his brow and asked, “Remus and Romulus?”

Addy nodded. “From your expression, I take it you met them and disliked them?”

Remus cringed at the memory of the two blonde airheads. While they were Hilderbatches, they’d clearly gotten none of the mental prowess of their elders.

“Yeah, you’re right. They weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, but they were literally the only family that paid me any heed on either side of the family. Likely because they didn’t bother to notice I failed to look right.”

Remus could believe that.

Atlanta set aside the parchment and picked up a tiny box, frowning at it. She shook it. It made no noise. Remus shifted a bit as she ripped the paper off and revealed what was clearly a ring box.

“That little…”

She was out of the flat so fast, Remus swore she’d figured out how to Apparate without standing, yet the acrid smell of Floo powder told him she had used the fireplace. Remus stared at the spot where Atlanta had sat and waited a moment before a crack told him he had company. He looked behind him to find Sirius Black, who promptly fell over laughing.

“He’s got a tail!” Sirius managed to get out before he dissolved into giggles.

The fireplace flared to life and Tom tumbled out, followed by Harry, whose hair seemed to be sticking up more so than usual. Tom rolled a few times before he managed to gracefully get to his feet. His hair, like Harry’s, was standing on end. Remus quirked an eyebrow while Sirius collapsed in another fit of cackles.

“You know better, Tom,” Remus mildly said, trying not to snicker as Tom’s black hair slowly turned bright lime green.

Slow acting color charms were a favorite of Addy’s.

Harry stared wide-eyed at Tom’s hair and took off for the mirror in the front hall. A yelp told Remus Addy had cursed his hair an absurd color as well.

“She gave Regulus a tail,” Tom defended. “I couldn’t not say anything.”

“You and your mouth. What did Harry do to get cursed?”

“He proposed via a gift that he wasn’t even present—” Tom started, not bothering to answer Remus.

“My hair is pink! All I did was laugh at Regulus’s tail! Sirius did that and his hair isn’t PINK!” Harry cried, appearing in the doorway with wild, bright pink hair. “PINK!”

He took off before anyone could say anything.

Remus sighed deeply.

“Tom,” he started.

“I took pictures.”

“Good lord.”

“Moony,” Sirius said, draping himself over the back of the couch and thunking his head on Remus’ shoulder, “If I wasn’t into…well, uh…yo—guys, I’d be totally taken with my brother’s girlfriend. She’s a vision when she’s angry. I’m glad you got photos, Riddle.”

Remus made a noise of disgust as Tom snickered.

“She likely had an idea of how she wished to be engaged and Regulus did it wrong,” Remus offered.

Tom snorted and left the room, following Harry’s shrieks of “PINK!” to his bedroom.

“Yeah, well, her vision of getting engaged got James in big trouble. Well, her as well,” Sirius remembered, snickering at the memory. “Though, the cursed hair Lily left her with…”

Remus huffed. “The afro was a vision.”

“I’m so glad Tom got pictures of that. It’s like he’s always got a camera on him,” Sirius remarked, lifting his head off Remus’ shoulder and vaulting himself over the couch. Remus bounced a few times before he found his lap full of Sirius’ head. He blinked a few times, holding his hands out awkwardly, but Sirius did not seem to notice. “I always wondered how I’d do it, you know. Get engaged.”

Remus stared, his eyes going wide.

“Didn’t really think on it hard, though. And now?” Sirius shrugged, his bony shoulders digging into Remus’ thigh. “How’d you do it?”

The crystal clear gray eyes turned up to Remus.

“No idea,” Remus said faintly. “Never really saw myself as married.”

“Why not?”

Remus gave Sirius a dark look and pushed Sirius off him. Sirius went without protest, but Remus caught the wistful and hurt look on his face.

“PINK!” Harry wailed from Tom’s room.

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh. Yeah. Did Umbridge push that through before she was kicked to the curb? Besides banningyou from working, you can’t get married either?”

Remus nodded.

“And you never…thought about it before?”

“No.”

Good mood thoroughly ruined, Remus stalked out of the room to help Tom with getting Harry to sit still long enough to take the charm off his hair.


	16. Getting Things Done (Or a Thing Done)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, remember me? No? That's okay. Here, have a cookie. *hands you a cookie* So, I sat around thinking for the last month I was suffering from writer's block only to discover when I sat down to write the stuffing out of this story, I'd actually finished the part I thought as giving me trouble. Yeah. Sorry. *looks sheepish* So, uh, here's the chapter!

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I still fail to own it. Even after all these years. However, I do own a lot more shoes now than I did when I started writing these disclaimers. But less nail polish, because the movers won’t move liquids and I moved. Twice.**

* * *

The rest of the holiday passed quietly. Tom was ever present once again, though Draco could not figure out if the pair had gotten together as in boyfriends or were simply back to being their odd version of friends. After two days of trying to figure it out, Draco gave up. As for the other dramatic couple, Draco did not see much of Regulus or Addy, nor did he ever find out if they’d made up before he found himself back at school.

“What do you mean you don’t know if she said yes?” Hermione demanded as they sat by the fire the night they arrived back at school. “Did no one bother to find out?”

“She turned my hair pink,” Harry grumbled. “Like hot pink.”

Draco snorted.

“She turned your hair bright blue!”

“She did,” Draco agreed. “We all had rainbow hair for the last few days of the holiday.”

“The spell wasn’t reversible?”

“No,” Harry grumbled. “Professor Lupin tried to undo it on Christmas, but he couldn’t. The only person who didn’t have Technicolored hair was Sirius. Well, and Aunt Narcissa who wasn’t in the dining room when Addy showed up.”

“How Sirius escaped is a wonder,” Draco remarked.

Hermione shook her head, giving them both exasperated looks.

“Well, I’m sure someone will tell you sooner or later,” Hermione said, pushing her bushy hair out of her face as she leaned on Draco’s shoulder. “Not that I blame her for being angry.”

“Noted,” Draco said. “Never propose by gifting a ring to your intended. Remember that Harry.”

Harry gave Draco a dark look.

“Where is Tom?” Hermione asked. “I’ve not seen him since we got to the castle.”

“He is meeting with Snape for some unknown reason,” Harry grumbled. “I don’t know why Tom trusts Snape so much. I was thinking, we should do something with our…uh, the army that Snape doesn’t know about.”

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks.

“What? He’s a spy. You can’t trust a spy with anything,” Harry defended. “Spies have secrets. You know, Snape’s secrets probably have secrets.”

“What were you thinking?” Hermione asked.

Harry bit his lip, then rubbed his hands together. “We run a trial run of the Death Muncher Invasion. I was thinking, we could ask the Room of Requirement to look like the hallways under the astronomy tower and outside the actual room, so we can have trial runs of what might happen that night. Or what did happen, as Draco lived it.”

Draco frowned.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Hermione allowed. “I mean, I know the military does trial runs of battles.”

“Yeah! That’s where I got the idea. I was reading something about Pearl Harbor and it said the Japanese did trial runs of the invasion so many times a lot of the guys claim they could have done it in their sleep.”

Draco felt bewildered. “They pretend to go to war while they are at war?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “So the soldiers know what might happen. I think this is a great idea, Harry. I believe we should select for the first run members of the Chess Club. They’ll have the coins still, likely.”

“Also, they know what’s what,” Harry said. “I already gave them the pep talk.”

“What about the others that are in our dueling group who already think they are part of the defense of the school?” Draco asked. “There are at least ten people in our dueling group who were not in the Chess Club.”

“Second wave,” Harry suggested. “We run it first with the Chess Club, then with the others. Small groups are best. Draco?”

Draco squared his shoulders and met Harry’s green eyes.

“You’ll need to extract the memory of that night for me,” Harry stated. “I’ll watch it, then plan our defense.”

“You don’t want me to just tell you?”

“No.”

“What if I don’t want you to see it?”

“All I need is how you exited the Room and—”

“I threw Peruvian Dark Powder, used my Hand of Glory to light the way for the Death Eaters to enter. Potter’s friends were waiting, but I managed to get passed easily because I was the only one who could see. They followed us to the base of the tower, but were unable to follow up due to the ward I put up that prevented anyone without a Dark Mark from getting up.”

Harry frowned.

“So, you didn’t fight?”

“No. I wasn’t there. I was up on the tower and after Snape did the deed, he dragged me out of the school. I saw little of what was going on around me, then blocked a lot of it out if I did.”

Harry frowned, then opened his mouth, but Hermione said, “The memory won’t be intact if he was in shock, which is likely. I’ve read about it. The mind tries to protect itself and even magic is unable to recover the memories fully. It is not like when you simply forget a fact or misremember something.”

“And it’s not like when you alter the memory on purpose?” Harry inquired.

“No.”

“When did you read about this?” Draco asked, turning in amazement to his girlfriend.

“I received a book on the mind from Sirius this year for Christmas. It was utterly fascinating and I was unable to put it down. It was much more informative than the books on Occulmency and Legitmency I’ve read here.”

“Oh.”

“I think Sirius thinks I might make a good Mind Healer,” Hermione quietly admitted.

“Why would he think that?” Harry asked.

“He hardly knows you,” Draco pointed out.

Hermione shrugged. “No idea. But, he’s given me books on the mind, Wizarding and Muggle, since fourth year.”

“Really?” Harry asked looking baffled.

“I mean, I’ve always been fascinated with the mind, because there is so much unknown and it’s such a marvelous organ if you think about it, but…” Hermione trailed off, shrugging a little. “I’m not sure where he got the idea.”

“Do you think you’d be a good Mind Healer?”

“I’ve no idea what to do. I want to do something to change the world, to do good, which a Mind Healer would do, but at the same time, I want to change the wizarding world and to do that I’d need to join the Ministry.”

“I don’t know if I want to be an Auror any longer.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

“Since when?” Hermione asked. “I thought you were sure.”

Harry shrugged, looking away and into the fire. “I’m kinda tired. I know I’d be great at it, but at the same time just thinking about it…after knowing more about it, I just…it makes me so tired to think about it.”

“What would you rather do?” Draco asked.

“You’re a good teacher,” Hermione suggested.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. I think after I’ve dealt with Voldemort, I’m going to get out of the dark wizard business. Also, watching Tonks do her job, how good would I really be at it? I’m Harry Potter. Everyone knows what I look like, knows me, and will always be interested in what I’m doing.”

“True,” Hermione agreed.

“It’d be like if Michael Jackson decided he’d rather be a cop,” Harry muttered. “It’d not work.”

Hermione nodded gravely, looking worried.

“Who is Michael Jackson?” Draco asked.

“A very famous Muggle,” Hermione replied. “He’s known the world over.”

“I don’t know him.”

“You’re not a Muggle.”

“I still have another year of school,” Harry went on, “I’m on track to be able to go to Auror school, but I don’t have to. It’s not set in stone. I mean, Muggles take a gap year before they start uni. Maybe I’ll do a gap year. If Voldemort’s gone. If not, well, I’ll do a gap year after he’s gone.”

“You might be expected to help rebuild our society,” Draco pointed out.

“If we stop him this year, that won’t be an issue. Also, your mom is doing a lot to stop the events that allowed him to take over the Ministry in the first timeline. As long as he doesn’t get this school or the Ministry, he’ll be where he was last time. There wasn’t much rebuilding after he offed himself in 1981.”

Harry looked sure of this statement, so Draco didn’t argue.

“Well, I’m for bed,” Hermione said, standing.

She bent over and kissed Draco before letting herself out. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and bid Harry goodnight.

* * *

“Did you fill it out?”

Draco leaped out of his skin. “Do you not make noise?”

“No. Did you fill it out? You must mail it off by the end of the month.”

“I need another two recommendations,” Draco bit out, glaring at the other boy. “Besides you, who else shall I ask?”

Tom pressed his lips together and sat down next to Draco at the table he’d ensconced himself in the library. Hermione was busy writing an essay for Ancient Runes and had wandered off shortly after Draco had sat down. Her book and bag were still here, which meant she’d return after she tracked down whatever book she was looking for.

“I would suggest you request Flickwick and Snape write you one.”

“Snape?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I ask Snape?”

“Because Potions is your strongest subject after Charms,” Tom pointed out like Draco was a moron. “And a recommendation from Severus would go far to put you ahead of the others. He’s notorious for not writing recommendations for students. If you’re able to procure one, they might take you just based on that.”

Draco scowled. “He won’t write me one.”

“He’s your godfather.”

“On paper,” Draco pointed out. “Since Mother threw father out, I’ve only seen him at school as he was father’s associate, not Mother’s.”

Tom tilted his head to the side and studied Draco. “Why did he make him your godfather? From what I understand in the wizarding world, it’s a rather important relationship between the child and the adult.”

Draco nodded. “I’m unsure. No one explained it to me.”

Tom shrugged and pulled his own work out and pointedly slapped the application in front of Draco.

“You went through my things?”

“Of course I did,” Tom scoffed and Hermione reappeared. She looked thrilled to see Tom and began to drill him on the Ancient Runes essay. Draco glowered at Tom, pushing the application into his bag.

* * *

Draco filled the damn application out and that evening went down to the dungeons. He stood outside of Snape’s office, staring at the dark, old, beaten up wood door. He hadn’t bothered to check the map to assure himself this was where Snape was, mostly because he was unsure where else the professor would be lurking if not in his office at this time of night. The door opened before Draco managed to get the nerve to knock.

“What do you want?” Snape sneered.

Draco braced himself and asked, “I would like to request you fill out a recommendation for me as I wish to apply for the Spellsmith apprenticeship.”

Snape’s expression did not change, but he took the recommendation out of Draco’s hands and slammed the door in his face. Draco turned tail and hurried off. He was under no delusion just because Snape took the recommendation from him he’d fill it out, so before he dropped off Flickwick’s, Draco copied the recommendation so he’d have another copy to give to McGonagall the next morning. While Transfiguration was one of his weaker subjects, she liked him.

Color Draco surprised when the next morning a school owl landed in his porridge with the sealed parchment he’d handed to Snape not twelve hours before. He glanced up at the Head Table to find Snape glowering Hagrid who was telling him something that involved a lot of ham-fisted arm swinging.

“You got him to fill it out?” Tom asked, sliding into the seat next to Draco and ignoring Harry who looked put out by Tom sitting next to Draco rather than next to Harry. “Amazing. Told you he’d fill itout for you. You’re sure to get in now.”

“When will you find out?” Hermione inquired, sitting down across from him.

“Not until spring,” Draco said, giving the owl some bacon and tucking the parchment into his bag. “I’ll mail it off after classes today if Flickwick gives me his recommendation.”

“We’ve got Charms today,” Hermione reminded him.

Draco nodded.

“Best start thinking of what kind of spell you’d like to work on this summer,” Tom proclaimed, leaping up from the bench and hurrying off.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed, her brown eyes going wide. “You’ll be creating a spell this summer?”

“No. But, I need to know what kind of spells I’d like to work on more. They’ll then assign me someone to work with who invents those kinds of spells. Addy’s and Tom’s main focus was wards. Or, well, Addy’s focus. I’m not sure Tom can focus with that big brain of his all over the place.”

 

 


	17. It's In My Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because y'all waited so long, have a bonus chapter! Hopefully, weekly updates will continue. *sneaks off to the left*

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted as Harry entered the office.

“Good evening, sir,” Harry replied, walking across the office towards his usual chair in front of the headmaster’s desk. “How was your holiday?”

“Very quiet. Not many students remained behind,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve got one more memory for you and then our meetings shall cease.”

Harry frowned but took his seat.

“I am sure you have now figured out what I am trying to show you?”

“You’re trying to let me get to know the Voldemort that he doesn’t want anyone to know,” Harry replied. “And that he’s very different from Tom.”

Dumbledore smiled. “The second one was never my aim, but I am glad to know that.”

“You know they are different, right?”

“I can see easily how different they are,” Dumbledore said. “As a review, so far we’ve learned that Voldemort prefers to work alone, thinks he knows all above everyone else, and is a magpie.”

Harry tried hard not to snort and nodded is agreement.

“This last memory is one from Atlanta Black.”

“Which one?”

“The twelve-year-old girl who began Hogwarts in 1992.”

Harry nodded.

“The memory is from before Voldemort erased her memory and planted his own version of events.”

“If he erased her memory, how did you get this?”

“Good question,” Dumbledore said, folding his fingers together. “Voldemort wasn’t at his best when he cast the tabula rosa spell, the one that left Atlanta a blank slate. It allowed Atlanta to hide herself in her own mind, to set up protections. In essence, she hid herself within the confines of her own mind, trapping herself. I found the original Atlanta upon her arrival in 1978.”

Harry knitted his eyebrows together and frowned.

“I see the question forming in your mind. I was unable to let the original Atlanta out due to the tabula rosa spell. It was never meant to allow the original personality to replace the new one. Tabula rosa spells are illegal for a good reason, Harry.”

“I don’t know anything about the spells, sir.”

“Nor do you need to. I know far too much,” Dumbledore sighed. “What you do need to know is that when she arrived back here, Atlanta’s original memories were scattered, but some were stronger than others. This one was one of the stronger ones.”

Dumbledore dumped the memory into the pensive and gestured for Harry to enter. Harry found himself in a corridor at Hogwarts, the fourth floor judging by the view out the window behind the girl sitting in the window seat. She had long black hair, curling out of control and spilling over her shoulders to hide whatever she was doing. Harry took a few steps closer to the girl and heard her humming and notes from a guitar. She’d stop, scribble something on a piece of parchment next to her, then hum a few more notes, pluck a few strings.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded from behind Harry as Dumbledore appeared next to Harry in the corridor.

Harry spun around to find Tom Riddle, two years older than the one he’d left in the Gryffindor Common Room. This Riddle was taller and his voice deeper, but there was no denying it was Tom Riddle.

“I’m trying to get this song out of my head,” Atlanta Black said in her Southern American accent.

Harry followed as Tom walked closer to her. He frowned deeply at the sight of the parchment. Harry watched Atlanta Black as she gazed at Tom Riddle as if he wasn’t the most dangerous person she’d ever meet.

“It’s been on my mind since I got here. The words keep changing, but the melody remains the same. I hear it all the time, even when I try to sing something else,” she said, her ears red as she tucked her hair behind them. “That’s why I’ve been so annoying. Singing loudly and stuff. It was getting annoying, havin’ this one melody in my head all the time. So, I gave up. I’ll write it down. I wonder if this is how Mozart felt?”

“She’s writing the song,” Harry realized as Atlanta moved to the side, knocking over bits of parchment in her haste to make room for Voldemort.

She went on to explain the song in great detail to him, humming a few bars for him, but mostly explaining with words what the music was going to be doing at certain parts. Voldemort looked utterly baffled and a little scared.

“Then, for the end, it goes off. All the other instruments die down, leaving the lone guitar behind,” Atlanta Black finished, humming the last few notes and trailing off quietly. She turned to Voldemort, her amber eyes bright and her face eager for him to respond.

Voldemort stood up and stalked off without saying anything. Atlanta’s face fell and the memory faded into another one.

It was a different day. It was storming outside, making the Slytherin Common room creepier than usual. Atlanta Black was seated on one of the green velvet couches, playing the melody of the song on her guitar. Harry shivered. She stopped and looked behind her to where there was a staircase. Out of the staircase appeared Voldemort, carrying a strange looking guitar.

“Here.”

He thrust the instrument at Atlanta, who dropped the guitar she had been holding. It thunked on the stone floor, letting out a pathetic series of notes.

“Where did you get this?”

“I made it.”

“You made it?” Atlanta asked, looking up at Voldemort in shock.

Voldemort looked surprised he had done such a thing.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I made it so you will never annoy me again. Now, go somewhere far away and get out of my sight. Now.”

Atlanta didn’t leave, nor did Voldemort looked annoyed she was not moving but instead studying the odd looking instrument in her hands.

“I’ve never seen a guitar like this.”

“Out. Remember to put wards up before you start singing,” Voldemort ordered, folding his arms across his chest and glaring.

Harry knew Tom, knew Voldemort, and both could glare better than this Voldemort was glaring at Atlanta Black.

“Thank you, T.M.!”

Atlanta Black jumped up on the couch, kissed Voldemort’s cheek, and skipped out of the Common Room. The memory faded and Dumbledore drew Harry out of the Pensive.

“I am sure you know the song Miss Black was working on, correct?”

“Yeah. It’s the one she sang for us after Cedric died.”

“Correct. I’m sure you’ve heard it elsewhere as well?” Dumbledore prodded.

“Yes. Almost every time I’ve faced him that I remember, it’s either played or been sung, or shouted. Last time we shouted it. Didn’t work as well.”

“No.”

“You think it’d still work?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not musical.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just remember to use that song.”

* * *

“What do you want, Riddle?”

Severus stared at the boy seated opposite him. His hair fell carelessly across his forehead and he was impeccably dressed for a Gryffindor. He was also smiling, which Severus had learned was never good if Potter wasn’t located nearby.

“When the Death Eaters invade the school this summer, Voldemort needs to join them.”

Severus did not react to anything the child said, which made the smile on Riddle’s face grow two-fold.

“You know,” Riddle breathed, leaning forward.

There was a look about him that made Severus uneasy.

“Brilliant,” Riddle proclaimed, leaning back and rubbing his hands together. “He’s already asked you.”

“Who has already asked me what, Mr Riddle?”

“Dumbledore,” Riddle clarified. “We’ve already concluded not to try to stop Nott, which you’ve likely noticed. There is no point. It’ll happen no matter what we do. Harry informed us that you’ve taken an Unbreakable Vow to kill Dumbledore in his steed, which made us all feel better knowing someone liked Nott enough to do that for him.”

Severus knitted his eyebrows together as he glowered at Riddle.

“Good, good,” Riddle muttered, once more rubbing his hands together. He wove his fingers together and grinned while resting his chin on his folded fingers. “I’ve been dying to ask you something.”

Severus glared.

“How did you enjoy your dinner at the Secret Garden?” Riddle casually threw out.

Severus sat back hard in his seat. “What do you know of that?”

“Not a lot, as I left shortly after you arrived with Pettigrew,” Riddle remarked. His creepy smile grew as he watched Severus’ reaction. “Ah, you don’t know about me, do you?”

Severus let out a loud breath through his nose and glared at the child.

“That’s fine. Addy was in fact there, but she left when Pettigrew arrived with a date,” Riddle remarked. “I was with Addy.”

“How?”

“Magic.”

Severus shot mental daggers at Riddle. Talking to this boy was like speaking to Dumbledore at his worst.

“Oh, never mind. It was likely rather painful for you to endure due to the fact you hated Potter and Black,” Riddle said, unwinding his fingers to flap at hand at Severus. “Also, Lily was there.”

“What do you know of that?”

Riddle gave a calculated smile. “Only what she’s told me.”

Severus blinked, deciding best to play along and not allow the creepy child to know Severus knew where and when he’d come to be here. “You are not old enough to have known Lily Potter.”

“I knew Lily Potter and Lily Evans and I am old enough. I am TR DeVinette.”

“He is your father.”

“No. He’s not, actually. Voldemort killed my father,” Riddle replied. “The same night he killed his own father, due to the fact we share a father.”

Severus met the blue gem eyes and looked. Sure enough, Riddle was telling the truth.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You will need my help after this is over,” Riddle proclaimed.

“DeVinette has very few friends these days,” Severus pointed out.

“Ah, but Harry Potter will have plenty.”

“How?”

“Magic, I told you. I was born out of a sketch book and vile potion. I was not human, not dead, not a ghost. I was something else till last summer when Atlanta Lupin gave her life in order to give me a life.”

Severus shifted minutely. 

“She also removed the Horcrux from Harry’s head,” Riddle went on as he hadn’t dropped a huge information bomb.

“And gave it to you?”

“Since we’re technically the same person, that bit of soul Harry carried for thirteen odd years melded with my own soul, which it saw as like. Moldy Trousers and I are the same, on a very basic level.”

“Nature verse nurture?” Severus mused dryly.

“Exactly. No one bothered to nurture that bastard,” Riddle snarked. “But, enough with that. Let us get back to what I wished to speak about: getting Voldemort and his snake here.”

“His snake.”

“The snake must be killed before Voldemort can be killed.”

“He would never bring the snake with him.”

“What if you promised him a great dinner for it? Or, he doesn’t know he has lost control of Medusa, what if you suggest his two snakes meet?”

“You are speaking words, but they make no sense.”

“Harry is the Heir of Slytherin.”

Severus knitted his eyebrows together.

“The spirit of Salazar Slytherin made Harry the heir as he was utterly embarrassed by what Voldemort had done in his name. He liked Harry, so he gifted him the title and the gifts that went along with it. We’ve tested this theory. The snake doesn’t like me, won’t take orders from me, and Harry can still speak Parseltongue.”

“And he shouldn’t?”

“No. He only spoke it thanks to the Horcrux,” Riddle blithely said.

“Wait, you and Potter went into the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Harry goes every year. Several times, in fact, to feed and visit with Medusa.”

“Medusa is a snake?”

“Basilisk, actually. Quite ugly, but don’t tell her that.”

Severus blinked.

“Anyway, maybe Voldemort will like his snakes to meet?”

“Why would he want his snake to meet…Medusa?”

“I wouldn’t. You’re right. If I trusted a bit of my soul to my snake, I wouldn’t take my snake anywhere. Actually, I’d never put a bit of my soul into a snake.”

“No. I don’t believe he did,” Severus said.

“You do not question—”

“It is a snake. It does not do his bidding more so than an owl does yours.”

“Are you sure? Snakes are—”

“Medusa follows Harry’s orders, does she not?”

“Correct. So, he still needs another Horcrux. Malfoy was sure it was the snake.”

“Why?”

“Because he needed another one after he failed to make Harry one. He’d run out of Founder items, so Draco theorized that the snake was one as he was unusually attached to the animal.”

“Well, this Voldemort is not attached to his snake any more than he’s attached to his followers. I believe she is simply another follower as far as he’s concerned. I think the snake likes him more than he likes her.”

Riddle sighed lightly. “Fine. No snake. But, we must still have him here on the night Nott lets the Death Eaters in. We will finish him off then.”

“You plan to kill Voldemort this summer?” Severus asked lightly.

“Yes. I’m tired of him interfering in our schooling,” Tom responded, studying his nails on his left hand. “Aren’t you?”

“I am ready to move on,” Severus admitted. “Who is going to send the final curse?”

“Well, I’d like to kill the bastard myself, but I fear Harry is convinced it must be him.”

Severus glowered.

“Yes. I know. Dumbledore is filling his head with things,” Riddle sneered.

Interesting. Riddle didn’t like Dumbledore any more than Voldemort.

“Can you get him here?”

“Since I have six months to think about it, I am sure I can create a believable lie to get him here.”

“Good. If you fail to think up anything, tell him I’m here. I’m sure he’d loved to meet me,” Riddle said, pushing himself to his feet. He gave Severus one last creepy smile before he slammed the office door behind him.

Severus shivered.

He reopened his eyes, steeled himself, and strode into his private quarters attached to his office. He grabbed the Floo powered and threw a pinch into the fire shouting, “13 GRIMMAULD PLACE!”

He spun out gracelessly, stumbling a little on the slick, tile floor of the Floo parlor. Luckily, no one was around, so he was able to get his footing and dust himself off before the House Elf appeared.

“Good evening, sir,” the thing greeted. “Mays I asks who you are here to sees?”

“Black.”

“Master Sirius or Regulus?”

“Sirius,” Severus grumbled, glaring daggers at the elf. Likely because the thing was a former Malfoy House Elf, the thing didn’t quiver in fear like many of the Hogwarts House Elves did when faced with Severus.

“Follow me, please sir,” the thing said, turning and exiting the Floo parlor. They headed up the stairs and the House Elf dumped Severus in the first-floor parlor, which was tastefully and expensively decorated. He stared at the lights, which were all Muggle electric. Taking a closer look since he was on his own for the first time at Grimmauld Place, he discovered while looking like Muggle electric lights, they were in fact magic.

“Brilliant,” he breathed, staring lamp.

“Isn’t it just?”

Severus closed his eyes.

He loathed Sirius Black.

Reopening his eyes, he turned his back on the lamp he’d been studying and found Sirius Black draped in the doorway to the parlor. He was dressed in his usual dark colored Muggle clothing, though he was wearing one of those lurid Auror robes on top, but open to show off the likely very stylish clothing. His black hair was full of life once more, wavy and shiny like it was when they were at school together and no longer a stringy mess it’d been when he’s broken out of jail.

Severus glowered.

“Nice hair,” Black remarked with a smirk.

“Black,” Severus snapped.

“What?”

“How could you let Riddle befriend Potter?”

This had been bothering Severus since Dumbledore had let him know the true origins of the child. Now that Riddle had allowed Severus to know, he could finally demand answers out of Black. 

Black looked bemused and pushed himself off the door jamb. “I wasn’t exactly around to stop them, now was I?”

“You mean to tell me Riddle’s been in Potter’s life since before you escaped from jail?”

“Yeah. They were pen pals.”

Severus sneered.

“Yeah. That’s how I felt about it.”

“How long have you known Riddle?”

“Since I was seventeen,” Black grumbled. “Didn’t like him then, don’t like him anymore now. I take it you’ve had a wonderful introduction to the real Riddle?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You know who he really is?”

“He’s Tom Riddle.”

Black blinked.

Severus smirked.

“Yeah, yeah. They are different people, but at one point they were the same.”

“Yes. He said that.”

“And you’re here?”

“Because I cannot believe you’d allowed Potter to become so involved with the same boy who became Lord Voldemort.”

“Well, as Riddle’s found of pointing out, they might share DNA, but that’s it. They’re not anything alike.”

“Really?”

Black flopped his arms around.

“Wonderful,” Severus sneered.

“Why are you here?”

“It’s true, then? He’s been around since we were at school.”

“Yeah. Addy Black created him. Potions action.”

“What sort of potion creates a being?”

This had also been bothering Severus to no end. He’d yet to uncover such a potion.

“One invented by my crazy Great Aunt Cassie. Also, my mother did some voodoo on a sketchbook she kept as a school girl. She had a crazy crush on Tom Riddle.”

Sirius gagged.

“Lovely,” Severus drawled, staring down his nose at Black.

“It’s so gross to even contemplate but makes sense. I mean, I always did wonder about her obsession with Voldemort.”

“Your mother was obsessed with Voldemort?”

Black gave him an odd look before nodding. “Reggie claims she had no idea he was Tom Riddle, but she was rather…keen on the Dark Idiot. Tried to get me to join up before I ran away.”

“You ran away at sixteen.”

“She made Reggie join at sixteen.”

Severus extended his head in agreement.

“What did Tom want?”

“For me to bring Lord Voldemort to Hogwarts this summer,” Severus drawled. “You know, to kill him.”

“Tom’s going to kill Moldy Trousers?”

“Riddle seemed to think Potter was going to the honors.”

Black folded his arms across his board chest and scowled into the distance.

“Harry shouldn’t have to do that,” Black sighed, running a hand through his hair. It flopped back perfectly.

Bastard.

“Well, we all must do things we don’t wish to do,” Severus dryly remarked, thinking about the job Dumbledore had assigned him.

Black walked further into the sitting room, stopping only a few feet away from Severus. From the expression in the stormy eyes, he knew. Severus wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Draco,” was all Black said.

“Of course.”

“Do you know how hard it is to keep something a secret from you?” Black asked, getting even closer.

Severus wished he wasn’t standing near the wall and the end table, as Black had trapped him. He fisted his wand in his pocket, but Black kept his arms folded across his chest and didn’t look as if he was going to go for his wand.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know,” Severus remarked. “I’m surprised Mr Malfoy has achieved this feat.”

“You call your own godson Mr Malfoy?”

“Of course I do, do you not call your godson Mr Potter?”

“No. I can’t say I’ve ever called him Mr Potter.”

“Your loss.”

Black looked confused. His eyes darted between Severus’ black ones.

“You realize this is the longest we’ve spoken to one another without either fighting or cursing one another?”

“Well, I guess it was time for you to grow up,” Severus popped out.

For a second he thought Black was going to explode in anger, but he smirked.

Black smirked.

“Yeah, well, it just took a trip to Azkaban,” Black quipped. “I wouldn’t suggest it, though. It’s kinda cold.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “Cold, Black? That’s your assessment of Azkaban?”

Black shrugged, unfolding his arm and fluidly moving to one of the overstuffed armchairs and flopping down.

“Why’re you really here, Snape?”

“To confirm Riddle’s tall tale.”

Black sighed. “Well, it’s true. You better start thinking of something to tell Moldy to get him to the school. If they’ve got a plan, they’re going to do it whether you go along with it or not.”

“I do not want that man in the school,” Severus said, carefully sitting down on the couch. Black looked up at the sound of Severus sitting. Severus gave the man a pointed look as he’d not invited him to sit, but he was going to sit damn it.

“I don’t want him alive,” Black replied. “But he’s alive, breathing, and that’s that. So, you need ideas?”

“No. Unfortunately, Riddle’s idea will likely work the best.”

“Use him as bait? Good. Smug arse,” Black grumbled.

Severus snorted.

“I hate him,” Black confided. “I cannot stand him. And he’s everywhere.”

“That he is.”

“Reggie hates him too,” Black went on.

“How strange. I’m amazed the children like him.”

“I’m not sure they do,” Black said, sitting up straight and leaning forward. “I’m positive Draco hates his guts but puts up with him because he’s Harry’s….whatever.”

“Yes. Harry’s whatever describes that relationship perfectly.”

“Harry’s in denial,” Black proclaimed, getting a gossipy tone. “But, I’m pretty sure besides Harry and maybe the Lovegood kid, no one really likes Tom. The Weasley girl hates him, I can tell. Pretty sure Hermione puts up with him as Draco does, and pretty sure no one else in Gryffindor likes him too much since he’s such a…great guy.”

“He reminds me of you.”

Black looked insulted. “I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. And you were worse because you were a bully until Atlanta Black punched you in the nose.”

Severus smirked, fondly remembering that day.

“I’ll give you that. I was a rotten kid,” Black sighed. “And I’d likely have raised Harry to be just as spoiled and…”

“Rotten.”

“No. I doubt he’d be rotten. He is Lily’s son,” Black pointed out.

Severus was quiet, letting that sentiment sink in. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

“You see it?”

“I have looked passed his appearance since his arrival.”

“Because Draco is his best friend?”

“Partly. Partly because he answered all my questions on the first day correctly, meaning he’d read the textbook more than once,” Severus admitted.

“Really.”

“He’s the only one who ever answered all three questions posed,” Severus heard himself admitting. “Percy Weasley came close. He missed the last question.”

“Beat himself up for the rest of his Hogwarts career?”

Severus smirked.

“You’re evil.”

“Only in the classroom.”

“How’d you end up a teacher anyway? You clearly hate it.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you’re a cranky bastard during the school year.”

“I’m always a cranky bastard. I’ve always been as well. No. Wait. There was a time I wasn’t cranky when I didn’t know you.”

Black snorted. “Sure.”

He flopped backward, tilting his head back and tossing his hair over the back of the chair.

“Is Moldy really interested in Tom?”

“Yes. I’ve been told to report everything on the boy back to him.”

“What have you told him so far?”

“He’s a very clever brat.”

Black snorted. “Bet he liked that.”

“He is…rather confused about Riddle’s appearance. He hadn’t paid any heed to current events when he returned and was rather befuddled to find his image all over books and spells under the name TR DeVinette.”

“He can tell it’s him?”

“He remembers what he looked like before he…began his transition.”

“Damn. You know when I met Tom I realized it was good that Voldy wasn’t that good looking anymore because he would likely make people fall at his feet if he wanted to by just smiling.”

“He doesn’t smile often.”

“Thank god.”

Severus glanced around the room once more before letting himself look at Black again. Black had moved his head so he could see Severus and smiled when their eyes met.

“I didn’t believe her,” he announced.

“Believe who?”

“Lily.”

Severus stiffened.

“She said you were at heart a good guy, her best friend who introduced her to the magical world,” Black went on. “Addy always said if you hadn’t been fascinated so much by the Dark Arts, you and Lily would have stayed friends even with you being in Slytherin. Addy likes you.”

“Baffles me to no end.”

“She always has,” Black chuckled, running his hand through his hair again and sitting up properly. “Want a firewhiskey? Or do you have an early class?”

“Trying to get me drunk, Black?”

“No. Just being friendly.”

“Why?”

Black shrugged. “Narcissa told I needed friends my own age who I am not in love with.”

“And you want to be my friend?” Severus sneered.

“Sure. Why not? Lily seemed to think you were okay,” Black shrugged, gracefully rising from the chair and heading over to the table where the decanters of alcohol were located. He grabbed two glasses, poked at the bottles with his wand a few times before he began to pour. “She wanted to write to you, make up in a sense. She was talking James into…”

Black trailed off, looking distant and depressed.

“She what?” Severus prodded.

Black looked back at him with hollow eyes. “She was pregnant.”

“What?”

“The day before Halloween, she dropped by Addy’s flat to see Tom. And yes, she was friends with Tom and no I don’t know why.”

Severus knew why but didn’t feel like saying it.

“Anyway, I was home early from work and Apparated straight to my room, as by that point Addy had given me permission to pop straight into the house. Anyway, my room was, or I guess is, sound proof, as all the rooms in that joint, so no one heard me. I came out of my room and heard Lily’s voice. I was shocked, as they were in hiding and under instructions NOT to leave the cottage. But, here she was in Addy’s living room.”

“Wasn’t Addy dead by this point?”

“Well, no. She wasn’t dead. She was time traveling to the future. Or in the future I guess.”

“My head hurts.”

“Yeah. Time travel does that to you. So, there I was and I quietly walked down the stairs, as I didn’t know why she was there and didn’t want to, well, if it was an imposter, I wanted to get the jump on her.”

Severus nodded.

“I lurked in the hall outside the living room, where Lily and Tom were, and Lily was talking a mile a minute. She suddenly realized what time it was and hurried to leave. She said as she was leaving she was pretty sure she was pregnant and she’d talked James around into naming you as godfather if you two were able to patch things up. Tom didn’t reply, just sat looking stunned.”

Severus's mouth dropped open and tears formed unbidden in his eyes.

“Yeah. That’s actually the same expression Tom had. I didn’t understand the tears at the time, but I get it now.”

“He knew? He knew she was going to die that night?”

Black nodded. “Addy had known, so Tom knew. And couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He tried. He adored Lily. When Addy died he broke things, then fixed them. When news got to us about James and Lily? He cried. He bawled. He stood in the foyer, begging me not to leave, and cried like a baby. Wasn’t even ashamed.”

“He knew what was going to happen to all of you,” Severus realized.

“Yeah. But, Time didn’t let him change a thing. You’ve read that blasted book, right?”

Severus nodded. “Of course. After Dumbledore mentioned time travel and that Time was a thinking entity, I read the damn book.”

“I didn’t. I had Draco give me the run down. Hell, I don’t think Draco actually finished the book.”

“Likely not,” Severus intoned.

“Yeah, so Lily was going to…write to you and see if you could mend the friendship you broke.”

“You helped,” Severus shot back.

“Yeah. I know,” Black admitted, running a hand through his hair and finally picking up the two glasses of fire whiskey he’d poured. He handed one to Severus before taking the seat next to him on the couch. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass with Severus, then downed his measure in one go. Severus sipped his, relishing in the expensive, aged liquor.

“Why did you not listen to Riddle?”

“Part of me wanted to,” Black admitted, looking at this empty glass. “I knew by this point Addy was a time traveler, knew how she knew all those things, but…there was this need in me to leave, to go after Pettigrew, and kill him. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before, but I sure as hell wanted to kill Pettigrew.”

“You didn’t even wish to kill Death Eaters?”

“Nope,” Sirius popped. “Just wanted to bring them to justice. Didn’t want to kill them, maybe maim, but not kill. I am of the Mad-Eye School of thinking.”

Severus nodded, taking another sip of his drink. It burned the whole way down.

“I’d written Lily a letter. I was going to give it to Dumbledore to give to her, but I was unable to due to the fact I had a first year who needed to serve detention, then my fifth years blew up the Portions classroom, and suddenly Halloween was upon me and I still had the letter.”

“Oh, yeah. You were a professor by that point.”

“My first year.”

“You were the one who told Dumbledore he was after the Potters, weren’t you?”

“I wanted to protect Lily.”

“But not James or Harry?”

“I hated Potter and did not know her son, but he was her son, so yes. I wanted to protect him.”

“But not James?”

“Strictly speaking, no. I did not wish him to die at the end of Voldemort’s wand, though, no matter how much I loathed him.”

“But, the reason Dumbledore knew was because you wanted to save Lily.”

“As soon as I knew the Dark Lord planned to go after the Potters, my loyalty to him withered and died.”

“He threatened Lily multiple times before then.”

“Not directly. He didn’t even know her name, she was no one to him. And not because she was a Muggleborn. By this point, I had realized he didn’t actually care about blood status. He had his own agenda and simply preached blood purity due to the fact most of the people he knew were purebloods.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Foolishness of youth.”

“That is an excuse for so much, Snape.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you join?”

“They appeared to accept me,” Severus admitted, taking another long pull from his glass. “As you well know, I was not easily accepted by anyone.”

“True, but you started hanging out with those idiots long before you graduated.”

“They appeared to accept me,” Severus repeated. “As someone who was never on the outside looking, you’d never understand how attractive it is to be accepted finally after years of being shunned.”

Black gazed sadly at Severus but said nothing. He knew Black wasn’t looking at him with pity, but in fact, regret due to Black’s own actions.

“I see you’ve learned to regret,” Severus remarked.

“Took thirty odd years, but yeah. I know it won’t do anything, but I am sorry I was such a wanker. You honestly hadn’t done anything other than being a Slytherin.”

“The House your family wished you to belong.”

“And I hated all things related to my family.”

“Except your brother.”

“Yeah, except Reggie. But, he didn’t really belong there. He asked to be there.”

“As to not upset the family?”

Black nodded. “The Hat actually wanted to put him in Hufflepuff, if you can believe that.”

“No. I cannot actually believe that,” Severus agreed, downing the last of the amber liquid.

“James hated you I think because you were friends with Lily and he didn’t understand with the wisdom of an eleven-year-old why she’d like you rather than him.”

Severus darkly glanced at Black.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s lame, but there you have it. You’ve gotta admit, after you two weren’t friends, he picked on you a lot less.”

“True. You were the one who usually went after me,” Severus reminded the other man.

Black put both his large hands over his face and hid. “I know. I know.”

“Till you tried to kill me.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually go to the tree,” Black grumbled, dragging his hands down his face. “You have to admit, that was kind of stupid.”

“I didn’t think you’d hidden a werewolf there!”

“I didn’t. Dumbledore did.”

Severus groaned. “You sent me there.”

“I did. In all the wisdom of an idiot.”

“Idiots lack wisdom, hence their status as idiots.”

“You’re so clever, Snape,” Black oozed, slumping down on the couch and turning towards Severus. “Tell me more.”

“You’re still a daft dunderhead.”

“That I am,” Black gladly agreed.

“Lily was pregnant?”

“She thought so. No way to know for sure.”

“No.”

“I don’t know if she ever wrote you that letter she told Tom she was going to write. She had only a few hours after she left the flat to live,” Sirius darkly relayed. “Part of me wants to curse Tom now that I can for not doing more.”

“Yet, you understand the limitations placed upon him?”

“Yeah. I do. When you’re aware of the whole Time controlling things and fixed points, you realize sometimes why you want to do illogical things.”

“Like what?”

“Dueling Bellatrix when I knew she was the reason I died in Draco’s other timeline.”

“You are supposed to be dead?”

“In Draco’s other life, I died in his fifth year at the end of my cousin’s wand. She bragged. Constantly.”

“Of course she would,” Severus grumbled, finding he didn’t like the idea of Black being dead.

He didn’t want to examine the fact he didn’t like the idea of Black being dead. Or the fact he was actually somewhat enjoying this civilized conversation they were having.

That was completely out of character for the pair of them.

“Do you believe Time is playing with us now?”

“Who knows? I think Time is always playing with our lives. If you’d told me this when I was twenty-one, I’d laughed in your face, but in all my thirty odd years of wisdom now? Yeah. I believe there’s someone pulling strings and causing us to do things, creating the world to her liking.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is the Dark Lord here?”

“To give us interest, something to fight against. Peace is boring, hence why the world is never at peace. There is always a war going on, a battle being fought. Always.”

“Always,” Severus echoed, feeling the word heavy in his mouth.

“I miss James,” Black announced. “But, I think sometimes I miss Lily more.”

“I find that hard to believe. Potter was your best friend.”

“I know. And I really do miss him, but I don’t think…well, I’m not sure where I was going with that.”

“Clearly.”

“I miss them both.”

“I see.”

“I don’t miss Pettigrew.”

“No. I’d think not.”

“Another drink or you think you have to head back?”

Severus looked into his empty glass. He felt something nudge him in the belly, a strange tug that had him moving backward a little, settling into the couch further.

“One more won’t hurt.”


	18. Not My Heart

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

February arrived, cold and dreary.

Well, the weather was cold and dreary. Draco didn’t feel as he usually did when February arrived: tired of winter and ready for spring. In fact, Draco felt quite content. He was downright cheery, till he remembered Valentine’s Day.

“What the hell am I supposed to do for Valentine’s Day?” he blurted out the Friday night before their first Apparation lesson while everyone was getting ready for bed.

Everyone stared. Draco turned red.

“It’s a commercial holiday,” Tom proclaimed, fluffing his pillow.

Finnigan mouthed the words Tom had said while Thomas rolled his eyes deeply.

“A book!” Neville suggested. “Hermione loves books. Can’t go wrong with a book.”

“And some flowers,” Thomas offered. “Girls like flowers. Chocolates are a little iffy, though.”

“Yeah, they might think you’re tryin’ to fatten ‘em up,” Finnigan unhelpfully added.

“What?” Draco bewilderedly asked. “Why would they think that?”

“I believe we now know why Seamus has never had a girlfriend,” Thomas snickered, elbowing his friend in the ribs. “Books and flowers, mate. Can’t go wrong.”

“I love chocolate,” Tom proclaimed. “As does my father.”

Finnigan and Thomas both stared at Tom as if he was two screws short of a set.

“He does?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Yes. He _loves_ the stuff. He’s utterly obsessed with it.”

Harry blinked, looking massively befuddled.

“Trivia about TR DeVinette everyone,” Finnigan muttered, getting into bed. “Thanks, Tom.”

“You’re welcome,” Tom said. “My dad loves chocolate.”

Harry looked at Draco for help, but Draco shut his curtains. He didn’t want to deal with the Tom and Harry Show tonight as after two months at school with the pair, he was no closer to figuring out if they were, in fact, boyfriends or still “friends.”

Draco lay in bed, staring at the canopy and listening to the boys fall asleep for almost an hour before he heard Harry get out of his bed and into Tom’s.

“Are you trying to tell me you like chocolate? Because last I checked, you didn’t really,” Harry whispered.

“I do love chocolate. As does Lupin.”

“What?”

Draco could picture the smug look on Tom’s face.

“Remus loves chocolate. Everyone always gives him books, but no one gives him chocolate. Well, except Sirius.”

“I am so confused.”

“And it’s a lovely look on you. Now to sleep.”

“Tom.”

“What?”

“Do you want chocolate?”

“Yes.”

“For Valentine’s Day?”

“No. Tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

Tom didn’t reply and there was no further noise in the room other than Neville snores.

Draco closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

* * *

The next morning was rainy, cold, and dreary. Perfect day to pretend to learn how to Apparate.

“How are you going to fake it?” Hermione quietly asked while the sixth years milled around the Entrance Hall after breakfast.

“Screw up my face and look constipated?” Draco offered.

Hermione slapped him on the arm.

“I’ve never done this before,” Tom said, standing stiff and straight. He was more pale than usual and his eyes were extra bright.

“None of us have,” Harry pointed out. “Well, except Draco. And the teachers.”

“It’s a pain to learn. It’s truly difficult,” Draco teased.

Tom’s posture changed and he turned to face Draco. He quirked an eyebrow as he said, “You figured it out.”

“I did. I was never actually licensed, though,” Draco admitted. “It wasn’t exactly high on the list when I returned for the summer.”

“Was Potter?” Harry asked. “License, I mean.”

“Not that I was aware of,” Draco said. “Though, he was wanted for more serious things than Apparating without a license.”

The conversation was halted as the doors to the Great Hall banged open. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway and beckoned them all in. Upon entering, the group found all the tables had vanished and been replaced by rows of hoops. Draco frowned, thinking that last time the hoops hadn’t appeared till after the Ministry official had spoken to them.

“Find a hoop and wait for instructions,” McGonagall barked.

The sixth years all scurried around to find hoops by their friends. Draco glanced around, seeing Nott having a heated argument with Crabbe and Goyle. He jerked his head towards them. Hermione nodded, grabbing Tom’s hand and hauled him up front. Draco grabbed Harry and dragged him towards the back where Nott and his cronies were gathering.

“I don’t know how much longer, all right?” Nott whispered furiously as he stood by a hoop and completely oblivious to the fact Draco and Harry were in front of him. “It’s taking longer than expected.”

Crabbe snorted.

“Shut up,” Nott hissed.

Crabbe opened his mouth.

“I said shut up. It’s none of your business what I’m doing. I just need you to look out and keep me apprised of what’s going on. Goyle, too. That’s all I need.”

“You know,” Draco said over the noise of the Great Hall as everyone got situated. “If I was doing something that required my friend's help, I’d tell them what I was doing. Trust me.”

Draco bore his eyes into Nott’s when the weedy boy spun around. He didn’t look furious or upset. He looked tired, more tired than Draco had felt by this point in his sixth year.

And he didn’t reply to Draco. Or pull his wand. He stared.

“Shut up,” Crabbe said. “It’s none of your business what we talk about.”

“No, it’s not.”

“QUITE!” rang out the holler from all four Head of House.

Draco turned his back on Nott and faced forward to listen to the opening remarks of the Ministry official.

After an hour of pretending he was trying to Apparate, Draco left the hall with Harry and headed for the Common Room.

“That was horrible,” Tom proclaimed when he caught up. “Why does anyone want to do that?”

Tom, of course, had mastered Apparation before anyone else. While Susan Bones had managed Splinching herself, no one other than Tom had achieved anything of interest.

“You’ve only done it once,” Hermione gently said, patting Tom on the arm.

“And it was horrible,” Tom insisted. “Worse than doing Side-Along.”

“Really?” Harry asked scrunching up his nose. “Why are all wizarding traveling methods painful?”

“No pain, no gain,” Draco offered.

“So, what was Nott up to?” Hermione asked, hooking her arm through Draco’s.

“Not much. Fighting over what he’s doing with Crabbe and Goyle,” Draco offered. “Though, he had no witty come back when I said he ought to tell them what he was doing. He simply stared at me.”

“You never told your two cronies?” Tom inquired as they started up the stairs.

“No. Never.”

“Maybe Nott will,” Tom mused. “We ought to keep an eye on them.”

“We know what he’s doing,” Harry pointed out.

“Ah, but we don’t know if he’ll tell Crabbe and Goyle what he is doing.”

“They’ll help him,” Dracopointed out. “I didn’t tell them, partly because I was embarrassed it was taking me so long and partly because I wanted the glory for myself in all my sixteen-year-old wisdom—”

“By this point did you think of the glory?”

“No. I’d been home for the holidays,” Draco remembered and shuddered. “I didn’t tell them because…it was how I was. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing. Ever.”

“Well, you know Crabbe and Goyle best.”

“They’ll be anxious to help, to show the Dark One they’re loyal,” Draco said. “Actually, we should keep an eye on them. They might do something stupid.”

As February wore on, Crabbe and Goyle, in fact, didn’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary other than not being with Nott. Crabbe and Goyle were often by themselves while Nott was elsewhere.

“Maybe they’re growing apart?” Harry suggested on the morning of Valentine’s Day. “So, book and flowers?”

“Book and flowers,” Draco agreed, going to his trunk to fish out the presents. “Best go down to catch her before she takes breakfast.”

Draco hurried out of the dormitory. Upon entering the Great Hall, he found Hermione seated at the Ravenclaw table, working away on piles of homework. She was, thankfully, alone. She smiled when he sat down.

“You look a little nervous,” she observed with a grin.

“How can you tell?”

“I know you quite well,” she quipped, quirking an eyebrow. “I also know the date.”

She pulled a huge, flat box out of her book bag and handed it to him. He studied her for a moment before handing her the flowers and book.

“Oh, Draco, they’re beautiful,” Hermione breathed, taking the flowers and sniffing them.

Draco silently thanked Neville for his help in picking flowers out, as Draco had no clue what to do there.

Draco popped the lid on the box and found himself faced with massive amounts of chocolate.

“Lovely!” Tom said, plunking one of the chocolates out of the box as he sat down.

“Tom,” Hermione chided as she opened the book and gasped. “I’ve always wanted this! Thank you Draco!”

Draco blushed and nodded. “Thank you, Hermione. I adore chocolate.”

“I had no idea what to get you. You are so hard to shop for,” Hermione complained, sniffing the flowers as Tom stole another chocolate.

“I hate you,” Draco told Tom, smacking him on the back of the head and trying to mess his hair up.

He failed to mess the kid’s hair but got an angry look before Tom purloined more chocolate.

“What are you doing up so early, Tom?” Hermione asked as Draco moved the huge box out of Tom’s reach.

“Harry woke early, along with all the other boys who have girlfriends, which is all of them except Harry and Neville.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend?” Draco asked. “Who?”

Tom gave Draco a dark look before snatching another chocolate as hopped off the bench before Draco could punch him in his perfect nose.

After Valentine’s Day, February flew by. Draco was surprised when he realized that March was about to begin.

“I can’t believe they canceled the next Hogsmeade trip,” Weasley complained loudly from somewhere behind Draco during Potions on the last day of February. “It was on my birthday. Now all I have is that stupid lesson to look forward to.”

“Just think of all the places you’ll go once you’re out of school and can Apparate,” Zabini suggested.

“Big birthday treat that will be,” Weasley grumbled.

The next Saturday, which was evidently Weasley’s birthday, dawned gray and chilly, just like every other day since they’d arrived back at school from the holidays.

“I was kinda hoping for a change in the weather,” Harry grumbled as he searched through his trunk, discarding things left and right. “Have you seen my jeans? The ones without the holes in the knees?”

Draco looked up to find most of Harry’s trunk all over the dormitory floor. Tom was seated on his bed turning a package of Chocolate Cauldrons over in his hands with a greedy look in his eyes. He glanced at Harry, then tore into the package when Harry didn’t seem to realize he’d given Tom a box of chocolates (along with several pairs of pants, a few stinky socks, and a trick wand, but Tom didn’t seem to notice these things since he had chocolate. Draco hadn’t realized the kid liked chocolate so much).

“Haven’t seen them,” Draco lied.

The jeans were stuffed under Tom’s bed. Draco had a theory Tom had a thing about Harry’s knobby knees showing and didn’t really want to think about it too closely.

Tom stuffed his face merrily with chocolate.

Draco rolled his eyes and finished getting ready.

“Ready?” he asked Harry as Harry sighed and pulled on his jeans with the ripped knees.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Draco was in the hall heading for the stairs when he realized he didn’t have Harry behind him. He turned and poked his head back into the room to find Harry staring at Tom with a horrified expression. Draco could really figure out why. Tom was leaning on the bedpost, staring out the rain-washed window with a strange look on his handsome face. Granted, he was wearing a very unfocused expression, so maybe that was why Harry was worried? Or maybe Harry was finally seeing that Tom loved chocolate more than him, evidently?

“Tom?”

“Huh?”

“It’s time for breakfast,” Harry said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course not,” Draco drawled. “You just ate a whole package of Chocolate Cauldrons.”

“What?” Harry squeaked, whirling to face Draco. “Where did he get them?”

“You threw them at his head.”

Harry let out a high pitched noise and fell over.

“What is going on?” Draco demanded.

“It’s not that,” Tom insisted, not seeming to notice Harry had fallen over and was in the mists of having a panic attack. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Breathe,” Draco ordered Harry, kneeling down. “What is wrong?”

“Love…potion…spike…girl…oh….god…”

Draco fell backward and stared at Tom, feeling utterly horrified. Those chocolates had been spiked with Love Potion. And had been sitting Harry’s trunk since before the holidays.

“I can’t stand it!” Tom wailed, launching himself across the room. “I can’t stop thinking about her!”

He yanked on his hair while Harry got himself under control and knelt on the ground. Draco swallowed.

“What are we going to do?” Harry moaned. “What do you do when someone ingests love potion?”

“You usually have to wait till it wears off, but…he ate the whole box and…love potions get stronger with age.”

Harry cursed darkly.

“She doesn’t know I exist!” Tom lamented with a desperate gestures. “How can she not know I exist?!”

“Who?” Draco asked, darting in front of Harry who looked heartbroken as he slowly got to his feet. “Who doesn’t know you exist?”

“Romilda Vane,” Tom breathed, looking love sick.

It was not a good look for the boy.

“Oh, god,” Harry moaned, banging his head on the ground.

“I love her,” Tom went on in a strangled voice. “I love her. Have you seen her hair? It’s all black, shiny and silky. And those big dark eyes…”

Tom swayed a little, a dreamy expression falling over his face.

Draco wanted to throw up.

“What are we going to do?” Harry moaned.

“We’ll have to take him to Slughorn,” Draco decided. “He’ll have an antidote. All potions professors do.”

“Why not Madam Pomfrey? I mean, wouldn’t she have one, being a school and all. Accidental love potion ingestion might be common.”

“I did not ingest a love potion,” Tom insisted. “Those things are vile and my love is pure.”

Draco and Harry exchanged looks.

Draco really wanted to take Tom to Slughorn to see what the man would do, but also because there was a little naggy feeling in his brain that kept telling him Slughorn over Pomfrey.

“Okay. Okay. Uh, he actually likes Pomfrey, so I guess we’ll take him to Slughorn.”

“What?” Draco asked, looking at Harry. “That made no sense.”

“It didn’t, did it? This is a Time thing, isn’t it?”

“So it would seem,” Draco sighed. “Slughorn hates him. Pomfrey likes him. We really should take him to her.”

“But, I also now really want to take him to Slughorn. Because he likes me. A lot.”

“There is a reason Time wants us to go to Slughorn’s office. What could it be?”

“I wish I could meet her,” Tom breathed, flopping onto Neville’s unmade bed. “Just be in the same room with her would be heaven.”

“Oh, crap,” Draco muttered. “I know why. I sent Slughorn poison mead to give to Dumbledore, but he didn’t give it to Dumbledore and the Weasel wound up poisoned.”

Harry made a face at Draco, then turned to Tom and said, “I know where she is.”

“You do?” Tom asked, face brightening. He launched himself at Harry. “She did like you before Christmas. Do you think she’ll take me instead of you? I am taller.”

“You are taller,” Harry quickly agreed. “But since she did like me, but I don’t like her at all, I can introduce you.”

“You don’t like her?”

“Not in the way you do,” Harry insisted, peaking at Draco. Draco nodded. “She’ll be with Slughorn. She has extra lessons.”

“Oh, maybe I could have them with her?” Tom suggested eagerly. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed Harry and towed him out of the room.

“Out of my way! Harry’s going to introduce me to Romilda Vane!” Tom proclaimed to whoever he knocked over on the stairs.

Draco hurried out of the room to find Lavender Brown picking herself up off the floor and mouthing _Romilda Vane_.

“He’s ingested a love potion Vane gave to Harry,” Draco explained for some reason.

“How horrible!” Lavender gasped. “I never did like her. You’re talking him to the Hospital Wing?”

“Yeah,” Draco lied. “Could you tell Hermione I’ll be late?”

“Of course!”

Draco ran after Harry and Tom. Tom was dragging Harry, who tried to free his arm but failed. Draco caught up easily and tried really hard not to smile as Harry struggled. Tom banged on Slughorn’s office door, then jumped back and forth on his heels while still clinging to Harry’s arm.

“I’m going to meet her. Do I look okay?”

“You look fine,” Draco assured.

“Tom, let go,” Harry tried as the door opened to reveal a bleary-eyed Slughorn.

“Harry?” the sleepy man mumbled. “This is very early for a call…I generally sleep late on a Saturday…”

Slughorn’s eyes finally took in Tom, who was trying to push passed the green velvet dressing gown matching night cap wearing man.

“Professor, I’m really sorry to disturb you, but Tom’s swallowed a rather strong love potion by mistake,” Harry quickly said, jerking his arm backward. The action sent Tom flying off his feet, taking Harry with him.

“You see, it’s aged a few months,” Draco put in as Slughorn stared at the pile of boys at his feet. Draco was sure Harry was making it hard for Tom to get back to his feet. “He’s really convinced he’s in love with a girl.”

Draco gave Slughorn a significant look when the professor looked at him. Slughorn turned back at the boy pile.

“You couldn’t make him the antidote, could you?” Harry asked, struggling with Tom. “I’d take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we’re not supposed to have anything from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, you know, awkward questions.”

Ten points to Gryffindor for artful sucking up and lying.

“I’d thought you could whip him up one on your own, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?”

“Er,” Harry tried as Tom elbowed him in the side and sent him crashing to the ground breathless while Tom got to his feet.

“I heard you’re giving Romilda Vane lessons,” Tom breathed. “I’d like them as well.”

Slughorn looked torn between screaming and laughing.

“Well, all right, come in, come in,” Slughorn relented, stepping aside.

Tom burst into the office, tripping over a tasseled footstool, and falling head over heels.

“She didn’t see that, did she?” Tom asked, somehow getting to his feet before Draco or Harry managed to actually get into the overly hot office.

“Nope,” Draco said. “You arrived before she did.”

“Oh. Good.”

Tom sat down on the footstool he’d tripped over and once again stared off into the distance with an unfocused expression.

Slughorn looked as if he agreed with Draco that was an expression one should never see on Tom Riddle’s face. Shaking his head, Slughorn headed over to a cabinet and began to pinch things into a small crystal bottle. Draco edged towards the drinks trolly Slughorn had sitting in his office.

“Harry!” Tom suddenly shouted, grabbing Harry around the waist and causing both of them to topple to the ground once more. Tom pushed himself up, while pinning Harry to the ground, and asked, “How do I look?”

“Very handsome,” Slughorn smoothly said, turning around and heading towards Tom. “Now, sit up here. You want to look smart for her, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said, crawling off Harry and taking the seat Slughorn indicated. “She’ll be here soon?”

“Yes. Now, drink that up, it’s a tonic for nerves, keep you calm when she arrives,” Slughorn urged, handing Tom the bottle.

Draco reached the drinks trolly. He scanned the bottles but didn’t see anything resembling an expensive bottle of mead meant to be gifted to Dumbledore, as none of the bottles were full or unopened.

“Yes, I think I need that. I’m unusually jumpy,” Tom said, taking the bottle and downing the antidote in one go.

Harry peeled himself off the floor and sat on a chair across from the one where Tom was sitting. Tom beamed at all three people studying him till very slowly his grin sagged, then it vanished. His gem blue eyes grew large and an expression of utmost horror appeared.

“Back to normal, then?” Harry asked, studying Tom carefully.

Tom said nothing.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said, grinning at Slughorn, who chuckled and clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Don’t mention it, m’boy, don’t mention it,” Slughorn insisted as Tom collapsed backwards in the chair, still horrified beyond all known reason. “A pick-me-up is what he needs. I’ve got butterbeer, I’ve got wine, I’ve got…oh, some oak-matured mead. Brand new bottle, I think.”

Draco stood up taller, as Slughorn bustled over to a table loaded with bottles he was standing next to. He picked up a package that was sitting on the lower shelf. He unwrapped while Draco stared at him, looking horrified.

“Why don’t we open this to celebrate…”

“March?” Harry suggested. Draco let out a strangled noise.

“Good idea,” Slughorn chuckled. He poured out four glasses, while Draco stared horrified. Harry frowned, his mouth working but not opening. Slughorn handed Tom a glass first and Tom had downed it before Draco or Harry were able to move.

“NO!” Draco screamed throwing the mead in his hand at the ground and knocking Harry’s and Slughorn’s glasses to the ground. He wildly looked around the office as Tom fell out of his chair, his extremities jerking uncontrollably and foam dribbling from his mouth.

“TOM!” Harry bellowed. “Professor, do something!”

Slughorn, though, was paralyzed in shock at the sight of Tom Riddle slowly being poisoned on his floor.

Draco cursed darkly.

“Where’s Slughorn’s bag? That he brings to class?” Harry bellowed.

“OH!” Draco shouted, spotting the bag and vaulting over furniture to get to it.

The last lesson, they’d done Golpalott’s Thrid Law and had to make antidotes for poisons. Harry, not understanding the law at all, had taken the advice of the Half-Blood Prince to heart and handed a bezoar to Slughorn at the end of the lesson. It was likely in the potion kit.

Slughorn was sputtering in his seat while Tom was starting to turn blue.

Draco searched through the kit, throwing things left and right till he finally found the shriveled up kidney like a stone. He threw the stone at Harry, who effortlessly caught it and shoved it into Tom’s mouth. Tom gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp, and went limp. Harry cried out in panic, but Slughorn grabbed his shoulder before he could throw himself at Tom.

“It worked, see? He’s breathing normally. Mr Malfoy, would you go down and get Madam Pomfrey? Use the fire. Floo powered on the mantle,” Slughorn said, moving Harry away from Tom to check on him closer.

Draco went across the room to the roaring fire, threw the powder in, and vanished in a swirl of green to the Hospital Wing.


	19. Water Under the Bridge

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

****“He’s refusing to leave Tom’s bedside,” Draco reported that night at dinner. “We should bring him food.”

“Agreed,” Hermione murmured.

“Poor Tom,” Luna sighed deeply, looking into the distance dreamily. “The dust failed to warn me of this. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Draco assured, trying not to think about the fact he’d known but was unable to do anything because Time was a bastard.

Draco was seated at the Ravenclaw table. He’d spent most of the day sitting outside the Hospital Wing with Harry waiting for Madam Pomfrey to let him in to see Tom. It wasn’t till dinner time that she finally relented and allowed Harry to sit next to Tom’s bed while the boy slept off the effects of being poisoned.

“You sure it was Nott who put it in the drink?” Hermione asked as everyone else in the hall merrily went on with their lives. Tom Riddle being poisoned while visiting Slughorn hadn’t hit the Hogwarts rumor mill yet— or no one cared.

“Sure of it,” Draco said. “Snape tested the mead and it came out positive. Also, I did that last time. Poisoned it then had Rosemerta send it to Slughorn when he ordered it for Dumbledore.”

“Clearly, he did not know Slughorn at all,” Hermione commented. “Something that tasty, he’d keep for himself.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t know and I doubt Nott did either,” Draco said, looking at Nott who was pushing food around on his plate and not paying attention to anything going on around him.

“How is Tom?”

“Asleep,” Draco replied. “He’s really very boring in his recovery.”

Hermione gave Draco a chiding look. “Harry loves him.”

“Sure.”

“He does in his own way,” Hermione said. “What would you do if that had been me?”

Draco frowned, not wanting to think about that.

“See, you’d refuse to leave my bedside, I hope.”

“Correct,” Draco stiffly agreed. “So, how was the lesson?”

“No one managed to Apparate.”

“Tragic.”

“Nargles,” Luna randomly added, then drifted off out of the Great Hall.

Before heading to the Tower for the night, both Hermione and Draco stopped by the Hospital Wing to pick up Harry for the evening. Seeing as Tom wasn’t likely to wake up, Harry went without much argument.

By Monday, the news that Tom Riddle had been poisoned had spread, but it did not cause the sensation that the attack on Katie had caused. Tom had few fans, so many figured that someone who disliked him had slipped him poison as a joke, while others figured it was an accident given he was in a Potion Master’s office at the time and had been given an antidote immediately. No harm, no foul as far as the student body was concerned.

* * *

Tom remained in hospital for over a week, so he missed the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Draco felt he really missed out on a great match, as Luna Lovegood was the commentator and Gryffindor won. Having no idea how the match had gone the first time, Draco happily took this version of events and joined Harry after the match to visit Tom, who was awake and lucid.

And cranky.

“I am tired of being here. I do not understand why I must remain,” Tom complained loudly.

“You’ve not recovered all of your lung function as of yet,” Lupin said for what sounded like the hundredth time as Harry and Draco pulled up chairs to sit on the other side. Lupin smiled at them but turned his attention back to Tom. “Once you can take a deep breath and not pass out, then you can leave.”

Tom scowled, folding his arms across his chest, which made him start coughing. Lupin rolled his eyes.

“Great match today, Harry,” he said, smiling softly.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“You too, Draco. Not that I saw much of it, but I did hear the lovely commentary,” Lupin smiled. “Draco, care to join me for some hot chocolate in the kitchens before I leave?”

Lupin rose gracefully.

“Sure. Night, Tom.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tom. I bet you’ll be able to leave come Monday morning. I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Tom grumbled. “Night, Dad.”

Lupin gave Tom a sad smile, ruffled his hair, and nodded at Harry. Draco felt confused but followed the older man out.

“Is there a joke I missed?” Draco asked once they were on their way to the kitchens.

“No. I seem to be a parent at heart. I simply am unable to not parent children,” Lupin sighed. “I think he likes it, though he’ll never admit to the fact he needs a father as he believes he’s a thirty-year-old man.”

“He’s really not,” Draco agreed. “And I doubt it’s due to the fact he’s a teenager biologically.”

Lupin smiled fondly at Draco and nodded. “Yes. He wasn’t given a chance to be a child ever and he grew up too fast. And then he was stuck alone in a flat for fifteen odd years. And, I believe everyone needs a parent ever now and then.”

Draco nodded.

“Did Addy ever accept Regulus’ proposal?” Draco asked as they walked down the stairs for the basement. “I’ve not heard from her, nor has Sirius mentioned it to Harry during their mirror chats. Nor has Mother said a thing.”

“I believe they are keeping it to themselves,” Lupin said, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his robes as they walked into the colder corridor that led to the kitchens. “I believe once Regulus has finished whatever his mission for the Order is, they’ll announce it formally. She is still rather upset with him, though.”

“Does he still have a tail?”

“No. Just very vividly pink hair,” Lupin laughed as they reached the painting of fruit that was the doorway to the kitchens. “And very purple eyes.”

Draco choked on a laugh as he entered the kitchens behind Lupin. There was a breakout of chatter and exclamation upon Lupin entering (House Elves loved him). Lupin asked for the hot chocolate and inquired about a happy meal (whatever that was). The House Elves looked thrilled.

“What’s a happy meal? Lots of chocolate?”

“No. It’s a Muggle meal of a hamburger, chips, and a drink. American Muggle fast food.”

Draco gave the man a blank look.

“Addy told them how to make it when she was a student here. She loves them. I’m going to bring it back for her. The chain restaurants here don’t do them right she claims.”

“Ah,” Draco said nodding as he sat at the table and was served the hot chocolate.

“How is Tom doing, really?” Lupin asked. “He’s never very forthcoming when I ask.”

“He’s the only sixth year who can Apparate.”

“Can’t you?”

“Yes. But, I can’t let them know that yet.”

Lupin chuckled, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “Is he making friends?”

“No.”

“Figures.”

“Really?”

“No. I didn’t think he would make any friends. How is the Dueling Club?”

“It’s going well. I wish we could meet more. Even after separating out a group of us, it’s still not going to be enough I fear.”

“Sirius said Tom met with Severus,” Lupin causally said. “When you started term. He requested Severus persuade Lord Voldemort to come here. Is that really the plan?”

Draco knitted his eyebrows together. “I wasn’t aware it was, but it’s a good idea. Get it all over with early if we can.”

“Better to avoid your seventh year. It was rather horrid, correct?”

Draco shuddered. “Did Addy tell you?”

“What she learned through letters, yes. She didn’t live it.”

Draco shook his head in the negative. “No. She didn’t visit the summer before seventh year, I don’t believe. She didn’t attend the wedding the Death Eaters crashed the second they got control of the Ministry.”

“What wedding?”

“The Weasley wedding,” Draco answered. “She wasn’t on the guest list the Death Eaters found.”

Lupin made a face.

“Yeah.”

“What was seventh year like for you?”

“Long. Dark. Painful.”

“Even though you were a pureblood Slytherin?”

Draco tilted his head to the side. “I’d failed. I think Snape tried to protect us, but at the same time there was only so much he could do.”

“Do you believe he was still a double agent? Even after killing Dumbledore?” Lupin quietly asked, staring into the depth of his drink.

Draco stared at the top of Lupin’s head, not really seeing the light brown and gray hairs. He thought about his seventh year, trying to look at it from the outside. He tried to remember what Snape did throughout the school year.

“I think he was,” he breathed. “In his own way, he tried to protect us from the wrath of the Carrows.” Lupin shuddered. “The younger students…he wouldn’t let them punish them as they punished us older students. And…somehow he exchanged the Sword of Gryffindor for a fake. A really good fake because somehow Potter got the real one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he had the real one,” Draco insisted. “That goblin lied to my aunt when she demanded to know if it was real. And this was before they broke into her vault.”

“Is that how you knew a Horcrux was there?”

“Yes. She reacted too strongly to the sword being out of the vault for it to be due to the sword. After they broke into Gringotts…that’s when the Dark Lord got very mad.”

Draco rubbed his left arm, phantom pains shooting through it even though there was no mark there to blemish the skin. Lupin reached out and placed his hand over Draco’s.

“It was later that night the Battle of Hogwarts began,” Draco whispered.

The pair sat in silence for a minute.

“Addy arrived for the Battle?”

Draco nodded.

“How did she know?”

“I’ve no idea. I never thought about how she’d have known,” Draco realized. “I didn’t think much of it when I saw her, either. I kind of knew she’d show up, get messed up in a battle that wasn’t hers, to begin with.”

“She made it hers.”

“Yes, she did. I’ve not heard from her, what’s she up to?”

“She’s trying to get enough business together to open a shop,” Lupin remarked. “She said it’s a great time to move as rents on Diagon Alley are low, due to so many shopkeepers closing up. She and Tom always wanted a shop to call their office and meet clients, but she wasn’t unable before because Voldemort was after her and Tom wasn’t human.”

“I don’t know of any Spellsmiths who have shops,” Draco realized.

“Spellsmiths usually do not have shops. They work from home,” Lupin said, turning his mug in his hands. “She wishes to open a shop, allow people to come in and…I’m not sure actually. I think she mostly wants to have an office away from home, as so many people live in her flat now.”

Draco chuckled. “She’s not doing any work for the Order?”

“Just the usual wards,” Lupin said. “Whatever Regulus is doing, he refuses to let her help, which of course only makes her mad, but Dumbledore is in support of her remaining away from Death Eater activities.”

“Shouldn’t he want Regulus to remain away as well?”

“Regulus was in the paper after the Christmas party they held after he returned to the land of the living,” Lupin remarked. “Severus assured us that while Voldemort doesn’t realize this Regulus was one of his, he is aware of his existence and what he looks like. Addy, though, there’s been no photographs of her in the papers, just a blurb with her new name, which isn’t her actual name.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll let her know you asked after her and tell her to write.”

“Oh, she doesn’t have to…”

“I’ll let her know, Draco.”

“Okay.”

“It’s been lovely to catch up with you. You are really older than you appear,” Lupin remarked, smiling.

“Well, we’ve never really been close. And most of my life I have a feeling you didn’t like me.”

“I did not. But, I do now. You’ve grown into a fine young man.”

Draco colored.

“Sorry. I won’t further embarrass you. I believe my Happy Meal is done.”

A House Elf appeared with a paper sack that was a lurid red color. Lupin thanked the Elves and went on his way home. Draco went to bed.


	20. In the Unlikeliest Place

**Disclaimer: I still do not own _Harry Potter_.**

* * *

After the excitement that March began with, it wound up being a very boring month. Dueling Club lessons continued. Snape was in a better mood than Draco had ever witnessed. Between the length of his hair and the fact it wasn’t greasy, Draco wasn’t sure if the man teaching them dueling spells was in fact Professor Snape rather than an impostor. The Marauder’s Map claimed the man was Severus Snape, so unless there was another one running around, Snape was simply in an unnaturally good mood.

“Maybe he accidentally drank an elixir of happiness or something,” Harry suggested after a dueling lesson where Snape simply sighed and said nothing scathing.

“I doubt that,” Hermione said. “He’s not an idiot. If he did ingest anything, it wasn’t on accident. Maybe he’s simply in a better mood because he’s no longer teaching dunderheads Potions?” 

“Or he fell in love,” Tom offered, before vanishing into thin air before anyone could reply.

Harry looked like he was going to be sick. “Who’d he fall in love with?”

Draco and Hermione exchanged looks before Draco said, “I doubt he did. I’m sure it’s the fact he’s teaching DADA.”

As March melted into April, Harry organized the pretend invasion of Hogwarts. The first trial run was a disaster. Most of the group wound up in the Hospital Wing for spell damage. Madam Pomfrey glowered but didn’t ask why they were all injured or worst after she made sure they’d not been dueling each other out of spite.

“That was a catastrophe,” Harry grumbled, rubbing more burn paste into his burnt arm. “I thought we were better prepared. We’re all going to die.”

“You are not going to die,” Tom proclaimed, ignoring the fact someone had signed off most of his hair on the left side. “They are children, not trained soldiers.”

“We took Neville, Luna, and Ginny to the Ministry last summer,” Hermione reminded Tom. Hermione had two black eyes thanks to a trick wand Ginny had had on her that was one of George and Fred’s. Ginny promised to get a paste from them that’d clear the bruises up right away, as it was immune to the bruise paste Madam Pomfrey had tried.

“Yeah, and everyone wound up in hospital!” Harry wailed. “Neville’s unconscious.”

“People get hurt during wars,” Hermione gently remarked Harry. “And Neville’s not unconscious. He has a concussion. Madam Pomfrey has to watch him over night.”

“Not whilst pretending to fight a war! No one was supposed to get hurt, yet here we are!” Harry shouted, waving his arms around the boy’s dormitory.

“I’m not hurt,” Draco offered, raising his hand.

“Yeah, how’d that happen?” Harry asked, panting from his outburst.

“Luck,” Draco sighed, glancing at Tom and Hermione. They both looked at the floor, so Draco said what needed to be said. “Harry, you do realize that when it’s time, people will die. People have already died in this battle between the world and Voldemort, but more will die. It’s the nature of war. At least now we know what we have to work on: Shield Charms. We’re all very good at those, so teaching them shouldn’t be that hard. We can perfect those charms we found our first year when we were battling Quirrellmort.”

“I swear to god I taught those last year,” Harry grumbled, running both hands through his messy black hair.

After everyone was mostly healed (Tom still was partially bald), the group got together once more in the Room of Requirement (when Nott wasn’t using it) and stood in the recreation of Hogwarts.

“Okay,” Harry started, looking slightly ill. “Hopefully this well go better this time than last time. We’ve spent the past few weeks really working on various Shield Charms during Dueling Club. I know, a Shield Charm won’t block an AK, but it’ll block almost everything else. Our job is to protect, not kill. We’re kids. We’re just going to help out the adults. So, shield and dodge.”

The group nodded in agreement. Harry assigned groups and everyone moved to begin. Draco and Tom (who knew the most advanced magic out of the entire group) played the roles of Death Eaters. They remained behind as everyone else moved into place.

“Just as hard as last time?”

“Keeping it real,” Draco muttered, clutching his wand.

“Hermione should also be a Death Eater if we do this again. There will be more than two.”

“True.”

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Draco reached into his pocket and grabbed a fist full of the Purvian Dark Powder the twin’s had gifted him for Christmas. Instantly the space before him went pitch black. He grabbed Tom’s wrist and raised the Hand of Glory Tom had somehow nicked from Nott. (Lucius had not bought Draco the Hand of Glory this time around. Clearly, Nott’s father had, as Weasley mentioned Nott had one when Draco was trying to figure out how to see through the darkness.) The pair held their wands up and made their way through the dark, easily heading towards the corridor that would take them to the astronomy tower. They met the first group shortly after they got into the corridor. The group clearly could not see, as all the spells were aimed wide and missed both boys. Tom shot spells at the group (Neville, Hannah Abbot, and Ernie MacMillian), knocking Neville over and making Hannah’s shoelaces tie together causing her trip and take Ernie with her.

“Death Eaters wouldn’t use those kinds of spells!” Neville shouted into the darkness as Draco and Tom moved out of the black cloud.

“Fine,” Tom said, turning and shooting a spell Draco didn’t recognize till he heard Neville yelp.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Death Eaters wouldn’t stop for pleasantries,” Hannah shouted.

“She’s correct,” Draco said, tugging on Tom’s wrist and stashing the Hand of Glory in his pocket.

They met a group of students (two of the groups of three) before they reached the Astronomy tower and dueled for real. Draco was amazed at the skills Weasley and Zabini had picked up in the since the last time they’d done this trail run. By the time Tom and Draco had gotten away, Draco was winded and had boils on the right side of his face.

“Weasley?”

“No. Zabini,” Draco panted as he and Tom made a break for the stairs.

They didn’t meet anyone else till after they were upstairs. At the top, Harry was lying on the floor and tossing is wand up and down. He looked over as Draco and Tom burst onto the roof.

“Hey, nice boils. Don’t those hurt?”

“Yes,” Draco ground out.

Harry sat up and clutched his hand. “Well, talk, talk, talk, talk. Confess your plan.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Tom lazily said.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah. Fine, whatever.”

“Die.”

Harry made a death sound and fell over. Draco glared at the pair of boys before he turned and headed back down the stairs to meet the next group. While only Harry, Hermione, Tom, Ginny, and Neville actually knew what was really going on during these trail runs and how close to the truth they were, no one else did so they’d set up the groups like they were “patrolling.” During these patrols they had to go unnoticed, as the hallways were filled with adults these days more than ever before. Part of these trial runs were to make sure the group members could move stealthily and knew the good hiding spots.

Draco spotted Ginny’s hair and followed her. She led him on a wild goose chase that ended with him pinned to the wall, then tied up on the floor in a dusty room he’d never seen before.

“Does this room actually exist?” he asked, while Ginny sat on his back to keep him down.

“Yeah. I found it during one of the searches of the castle Harry sent me on,” Finnigan replied. “Figured if we pick off Death Eaters instead of taking them all on is the best way to deal with them.”

“Good thinking. Can I get up?”

“No. I like you here,” Ginny said while Thomas made a noise Draco wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Where are the others?” Draco asked, trying not to notice the fact his hair was likely filled with dust. At least the side of his face with the boils on it wasn’t being pressed into the ground.

“Waiting for Tom,” Luna said dreamily. “I know you wanted us in groups of three, but with only two Death Eaters, it didn’t make any sense.”

“True. Good thinking,” Draco said.

“GOT HIM!” came a shouted voice out of Luna’s ear.

“They’ve gotten Tom,” Luna said needlessly.

“What the hell was that?” Draco asked.

“Two-way earrings,” Luna said, skipping out of the room.

Ginny removed herself and Thomas jerked Draco to his feet and marched him out of the room. They met Tom and his capturers in yet another room Draco hadn’t known about. Tom was grumpily tied to a chair.

“I see they tied you up as well,” Tom drawled, looking as if he was ready to kill someone.

The group that had cornered Tom was worse off than the group that had gotten Draco. They all looked just as grumpy as Tom, except Harry who was lying on the floor playing dead.

“I thought he killed you on the tower,” Ginny said, staring at Harry, whose tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth.

“He did. But no one can see me dead up there,” Harry pointed out before he went back to playing dead.

“Get up,” Hermione said, kicking Harry in the side. Her hair was bushier than normal and she had a streak of blue on her cheek for some reason. “We’re all here.”

Harry leaped to his feet and looked between everyone. He rubbed his hands together and said, “Well, this went better. Tom can you put Draco’s face right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Anyone else get hit with a spell they don’t know how to fix or someone who can fix it for them?”

There was a chorus of nos. While everyone looked a little worse for wear, they were all walking, standing, and operational. Unlike the last time. 

“Cool. Okay. I think this time went a lot better. I want to do it once more before I let any of you out in the actual halls with actual teachers and adults wandering around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Zabini agreed.

“Best leave in small groups. It’s almost curfew.”

It took almost a half hour for everyone to leave. Harry was bouncing on his heels the whole time.

“I think we can do this,” Harry burst out as they walked back toward Gryffindor Tower. “And you know, not wind up dead.”

“That is the goal,” Tom drawled, rolling his eyes. “But, I think you are right. They will not be warriors, but I do not fear for their lives if they must face a group of blood-thirsty Death Eaters. Miss Weasley’s plan was rather clever. She used her hair to distract you from what you were doing and trapped you.”

“She do that to you too?”

“No.”

“He didn’t go very quietly or easily,” Hermione remarked, trying to smooth her hair and making an annoyed noise when she found herself caked in white dust. “What the hell did you do to my hair?”

“Plasterboard spell,” Tom said, looking a little sheepish. “I’ve never done it on hair before. Clearly, your hair didn’t really want to be drywall.”

“You tried to transfigure my hair into plasterboard?”

Tom shrugged and attempted to hide behind Harry, which did nothing as Harry was almost a foot shorter than Tom.

“What would have happened if it’d worked?” Hermione raged.

“You’d have plasterboard hair?”

“TOM!”

* * *

Severus was drunk. He should go back home, but for some unfathomable reason, he was still sitting on the sofa with Sirius Black’s head in his lap.

Why was Black’s head in his lap?

“It was hilarious,” Black giggled, pressing his nose into Severus’ thigh.

Why was Black’s nose in his thigh?

Wait, why was Severus’ hand in Black’s hair?

“All those little globes with monsters,” Black snickered. “And the rocks. Rocks are great.”

“Rocks?” Severus asked.

Black barked out a laugh. Black laughed with his whole body. He always had. Not that Severus would ever admit (while sober) he watched Black when they were at school. It was hard not to watch Black. He took up the whole Great Hall with his laughing, shiny hair, and perfect nose.

Bastard.

“That’s how I knew I loved Remus,” Black whispered, somehow snaking his arm around Severus’ waist and pushing his whole face into Severus’ belly.

This ought to disturb him on some degree, but the alcohol made him rather numb to whatever Black was doing.

“It was like this, only I was high and he was sober instead of drunk,” Black proclaimed into the softness that came with age to Severus’ midsection.

Not that anyone other than Black would know this information, as no one had hugged, touched, or gotten close enough to him in years to realize he was no longer a thin, gangly human being. His professor robes hid everything other than his height.

And his hair.

“He’s always sober,” Black complained. “And, well, why am I talking in complete sentences?”

“No idea.”

Black rolled away from Severus’ stomach and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey he’d dropped at some point. He pouted, staring at the empty bottle.

“All gone,” he lamented.

“Surely you’ve got other bottles?”

“No. Narcissa caught onto me,” Black complained, dropping the bottle. “Knows I figured the spells out.”

“You drank most of that bottle,” Severus realized, looking at the empty glass he was still holding. He got about three glasses before he felt like he ought to stop, being drunk wasn’t professorial.

Or really something he did.

Especially since the Dark Bat returned.

Snake. He was more a snake than a bat. Severus was a bat. He knew the students told each other he looked like a bat flapping around in his robes.

Black burst out laughing.

“Batman! Batman! Na, na, na, naaaaaaaaaa, naaaaaa Baaaaaaaatmannnnnn!”

“What?”

“Batman! Batman! Addy called you Batman! Never really knew why, but if you wear those flappy robes, then sure, you’d look like bat. A cute bat.”

“A cute bat?”

Black laughed, rolling back towards Severus. Severus was unable to focus his eyes right, as there were suddenly two Blacks.

“I’m drunk.”

“Not as drunk as me,” Black bragged cheerily. “I’m a happy drunk.”

“Of course you are,” Severus grumbled.

“Always figured you’d be grumpy,” Black giggled. “You’re fine.”

“I’m glad.”

Severus honestly did not remember the last time he was drunk. Likely after the Dark Lord returned, well, after he’d recovered from his meeting with the newly bodied Dark Snake-thing.

“What did he do?”

Severus started, looking down into his lap to find Black facing him with bright, slightly unfocused eyes.

There was still two of him.

“You’re drunk.”

“I should go home.”

“Naw. You’re the best pillow,” Black slurred, pressing his face into Severus’ stomach.

“I am not a pillow. I am a human being.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Black sounded sleepy.

Black wasn’t going to fall asleep, was he?

“Bobl,” Black muttered, which might have been probably.

Why was his hand back in Black’s hair?

“No, don’t stop,” Black whined when he went to remove his hand. “Hair. Like.”

Well, fine. He was drunk.

Why was he drunk?

Oh. Yes. Black had gotten him drunk. He wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d been stopping by Black’s more and more. While his first visit had had a reason, his other visits had no real reason other than he liked the company of another person his own age who wasn’t a Death Eater.

He’d always been drawn to Black, ever since that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He knew instantly the boy was a pureblood from one of the old ancient families, one as old as the family his mother had once belonged. From the cut of his robes to his hair, the boy oozed pureblood royalty. The other was likely a pureblood, or a rich Muggleborn, but Severus didn’t care. The royal pureblood smiled.

With his whole body.

And all Severus could do was stare.

He shook his head before the boys took notice of his stare and hurried to speak to Lily, hoping to make whatever had gone wrong right and wound up getting into a verbal spat with James Potter. He later figured out he’d insulted the idiot (rightly so), which likely had led to the years of bullying.

Severus looked down and stared at the sleeping Black in his lap, his long, white fingers buried in those shiny, inky black locks he had been oh so jealous over throughout their school years. Black was never awkward, never pimply, never gangly. He was always…the picture of perfection. Severus knew Blacks weren’t born perfect. Regulus Black, who looked so like his brother and nothing like him, went through an awkward phase in his fourth year. He was all gangly limbs, nose too big for his face, and pimples all over his forehead. Severus secretly figured the family had used magic to spruce the kid up over the summer, as he returned for his fifth year with non-greasy hair, perfect skin, and two inches taller.

His hair still held no candle to his elder brother, though. The only family member who had as nice hair was tragically Bellatrix, who wasn’t vain enough to do anything with her hair to highlight the fact she had illustrious locks.

Why was he sitting here thinking about hair? He was so tired. He ought to go back to his rooms at Hogwarts. Those were nice. Kinda cold, but he liked the cold.

It was really dark.

Oh, he’d closed his eyes.

He should push Black to the floor and leave.

He did not seem to be doing this. He was still seated on the couch. He let his head fall back.

* * *

It was late, much too late to be making social calls, but Remus had to drop his reports from the werewolf front, so he figured he would see how Sirius was faring. Remus knew the man didn’t sleep unless he was in a drunken stupor, which thanks to Narcissa limiting the amount of alcohol in the house didn’t happen often, so more often than not Sirius didn’t sleep.

Sirius was not fond of alcohol, mostly due to the hangover he was left with the morning after. Up until the…breakup, Sirius never drank in excess.

“He was often drunk. At least he was a happy drunk for the most part,” Tom had proclaimed when Remus had gotten the nerve to ask him how Sirius had been after he’d moved into the flat after Sirius had been found innocent. “Azkaban sorted that addiction out for him, so you won’t have to worry about him going through withdrawal on you.”

Narcissa, with so much ease Remus was jealous, had asked him about the alcohol shortly after the boys had gone back to school to begin their fourth year.

“Bottles keep going missing,” she confided as if she was talking about the rain. “Has he always been this way?”

“No,” Remus admitted as they watched the train vanish around the corner and Sirius turned to head back towards where they were standing. “He didn’t like alcohol when we were at school.”

Narcissa hummed.

He hadn’t heard anything about it or noticed Sirius hungover or drunk. Then again, he hadn’t seen much of him that first year he was out of jail. This Christmas, he did note the drinks tray in the sitting room lacked the usual assortment of hard liquor. And each time Sirius went to refill his glass, Narcissa glared until he finally stopped refilling it and sat in the corner with a cup of tea. She flicked her wand at the tray and gave Sirius a look of triumph, which made Sirius slump and stare into the depth of his teacup till he decided to float Tom and Harry to bed.

Clearly, Narcissa’s method of keeping booze from Sirius was not working.

Or Severus had brought it with him.

Remus stared, with his mouth hanging open, at the pair on the couch that cost more than the flat he lived in. Severus was snoring loudly, head tipped back to rest on the back of the couch. His long, slim fingers were buried in Sirius’ hair, holding on with a possessive touch. Sirius was facing away from the doorway, his face pressed into Severus and an arm wrapped around Severus’ waist.

Remus felt his stomach turn and he gripped the doorway.

There was an empty bottle on the floor and an empty glass tilted precariously in Severus’ free hand.

“Oh no,” whined a voice from Remus’ knees.

“Dobby?”

“Oh no. Mistress Narcissa is going to be angry,” the little elf moaned. “Not supposed to let Master Black drink more than a glass. How did he break the spell? Mistress be putting a powerful spell on the tray.”

“I’m afraid they weren’t drinking from the tray, Dobby.”

The tray was clearly untouched, and the bottle on the floor was something Narcissa would never buy, as it wasn’t top shelf.

Dobby wrung his hands. “I was cleaning the oven. I thought Master was in bed.”

“He clearly is not,” came another voice, this one from behind them on the stairs. “And I’m sure Severus brought that bottle. It’s too cheap for Cissa, Dobby. Can’t stop people bringing him whiskey.”

Remus turned to find Regulus Black standing behind him, looking casual dressed in all black Muggle clothing. His hair was wind tossed and his cheeks were pink. He looked at Remus, with something in his grey eyes that Remus didn’t like.

“Severus has been dropping by to socialize with Sirius,” Regulus offered, shrugging his shoulders. “No idea why. Sirius is just excited to have a friend again.”

Remus’ heart shriveled.

Regulus gave him another look before he turned to Dobby. “Don’t punish yourself. I’ll explain to Narcissa what happened.”

Dobby did not look as if he was going to follow this order, but he vanished with a loud crack. Regulus shook his head and sighed, moving to stand next to Remus in the doorway.

“They are a pair.”

“That they are,” Remus quietly agreed.

“He’ll never move on till you let him go,” Regulus said.

“Is this moving on?”

“No. This is two lonely people latching onto one another,” Regulus sighed. “I’m as shocked as you, but it makes sense.”

“How does it make sense? I’m kind and civil to Severus and he sneers at me and is rather rude.”

“You’re not lonely. You weren’t stuck in a job you hate, surrounded by reminders of your failures,” Regulus softly said. “After the last war, you had a job you loved, and were paid rather well for it. And then there’s the fact that you are a great teacher. You were born to be a professor. Severus, not so much.”

“Sirius loves being an Auror.”

“He’s not an Auror. He’s a poster boy,” Regulus laughed without humor. “He pushes paperwork, deals with the Ministry like the head of a department would do if he were so inclined. He smiles, pretends to be doing great work, but all he is really doing is place holding. They needed someone to head the department and didn’t want to give up any of the active Aurors they’ve got. So, enter Sirius Black.”

“Narcissa thought it’d give him something to do,” Remus realized.

“Yeah. Get him out of the house. Dumbledore agreed and didn’t have anything for him to do for the Order.”

“Unlike you.”

“Unlike me, who is young, fit, and able. Sirius…he’s…”

“Yes.”

Remus knew what Regulus was trying to say: Sirius was damaged. He’d never pass the qualifications trials to become an active Auror. He might be physically fit once more, but he wasn’t mentally.

“Moody told me that after you two broke up, Sirius actually flunked the mental tests they give Aurors periodically. And while he was never drunk whilst on duty, he did show up a few times rather hungover after Addy and I went missing.”

“He forgot to take a hangover potion?”

Regulus glanced at Remus darkly. “Those only work if you’re not an alcoholic.”

Remus startled.

“He’s…he has a problem. And he shouldn’t have any alcohol at all, but as we both know he’s a stubborn bastard. He refuses to let it conquer him, so he keeps drinking and trying to limit himself. I guess if Severus is going to keep bringing his own liquor, someone ought to tell him.”

“Oh?”

“Sirius is genetically faulty. Insanity runs in our blood. Addiction, not so much, but you must understand, Sirius is terrified of being insane, of turning in our mother, or worse Bellatrix. Bellatrix knows she mental and loves it. Mother, Mother thought she was perfectly sane and everyone else was at fault. Sirius likely knew he was loosing his hold on his sanity, of his mental stability, and was scared back before he went to Azkaban. Easiest mind numbing substance to get a hold of?”

“Liquor.”

“Yup. No one would question a young man buying booze. Buying massive amounts of Dreamless Sleep? Yes. Also, back in the 70s, Mind Healing was only getting started, really. We still do not know much about the mind, but when Sirius really needed help at first, there was no real support in the wizarding world.”

“He has support now, though, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll send an owl to his Healer. Tell her we’re worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

Regulus gave him a look which made Remus feel two feet tall and said, “Dora’s in the kitchen. She knows you’re supposed to drop off reports and is waiting. Best go see her.”

Regulus turned on his heel and stalked up the next flight of stairs. Taking one last look at the drunken pair on the couch, Remus hung his head and slunk off towards the kitchen. Dora was seated at the wooden tabled, being served hot chocolate by Dobby. She hurried to her feet when Remus entered, almost knocking the hot chocolate over and sending her chair flying into Dobby.

“Wotcher, Remus,” she greeted, a large smile painting her features.

“Nymphadora,” Remus greeted, not looking at her.

He heard her sigh as he opened a drawer in the dresser for Order things and placed his reports inside.

“Who is it?”

“Pardon?” Remus asked, glancing at Dora as he shut the drawer. Dobby silently picked up the chair and scurried off.

“I’ve shot down all your reasons for not starting something with me, so all I got now is that you’re in love with someone else. Who is it?”

Remus turned, glancing at Dora with her mousey brown hair too close to Remus’s hair color these days. “No one.”

“Remus—”

“Good night, Nymphadora.”

“Mum told me you used to have a thing with Sirius.”

Remus cringed. “That was a long time ago.”

“Really?” Dora challenged, coming round the table and standing in the way of any exit Remus could make. “Why were you upstairs?”

“I wished to check on him.”

“You never see him. When he was at St Mungo’s you never went to see him, you never come here to see him either, and your daughter and Addy told me you chase him off as quickly as possible when he comes to see you.”

Remus jerked backward, running into the dresser. It lurched behind him, making a loud racket as it hit the wall.

“Atlanta warned me,” Dora went on, getting in his face. “She warned me not to fall in love with you because of the fact Sirius was still in love with you, but then went on and told me that you chased him off all the time. And I watched. Sirius is still in love with you, but you want nothing to do with him, so who the hell is in my way?”

Remus blinked, “I’ve told you—”

“You’re a werewolf, you’re too old, you’re too damaged, you’re too poor. I’ve heard it all, shot those down, and am at the point I don’t care. So what you’re a werewolf, so what if you’re older than me—”

“I was a teenager when you were born,” Remus reminded her.

“So what?”

“It’s improper.”

Dora snorted, backing away.

“It’s not,” Dora stated. “If you’re not in love with Sirius, then what is the problem with getting to know me better? With dating me? I don’t see a lot of people beating down your door.”

“I told you—”

“Tell me something new.”

Remus pushed his back into the dresser, feeling the knobs pressing uncomfortably into his spine.

“What is holding you back? Honestly. What is it, because those excuses you keep giving me are weak.”

She glared at him while he opened and closed his mouth a few times. She looked honestly disappointed in him when he failed to answer.

“You do know if I could stop loving you I would, but this happened.”

Without even speaking, she shot her Patronus out of the tip of her wand and Remus found himself looking at a werewolf. He gasped, backing into the dresser further to the point he heard it creak and crack.

“Pretty sure that’s you,” Dora spat. “Do you know what this means?”

Remus stared at the woman before him, wondering how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place. He had always seen himself as unlovable till Sirius had shown him that he was lovable to someone other than his parents. Parents had to love you, Remus believed until he’d witnessed how Circe Hilderbatch did not love her youngest daughter. He loved his parents even more for loving him despite the fact he was a werewolf.

Remus honestly did not believe Sirius really loved him, after he’d said all those horrible things. After realizing that parents could be horrible to children and not love them unconditionally, Remus believed it further.

He had fallen out of love with Sirius.

Yet…

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” Remus whispered, thinking about his happiest memories with his daughter.

Instead of a great, big shaggy dog, something else burst out of the tip of his wand. Dora let out a choked sounding laugh and fell backward, collapsing on the floor. The animal rested on the table and looked between the pair before vanishing in wisps of smoke along with the werewolf.

“Now what have you got to say for yourself?” Dora challenged, rising onto her elbows and giving him a strange look that was a combination of a challenge and fear.

Remus slid down the dresser, taking a few loose knobs with him, staring at the spot where the penguin had stood. He knew that had been Dora’s Patronus before she’d fallen in love with him. He stared at Dora with wide eyes.

“How about we start with dinner?” he asked in a somewhat squeaky voice.

Dora got to her feet, dusted her hands off, tripped over her robes and ran into the table, then said, “That sounds brilliant. Tomorrow night, seven, I know a place in Muggle Glasgow. It’s this wee little Indian restaurant.”

“You’ve had a reservation for months, haven’t you?”

“Not saying. You know where I’m talking about, though?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The owner was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

With that last word, Dora walked out the kitchen door.

“You better tell Sirius,” Regulus said from the doorway. Remus looked over at him, wondering how long he’d been there. “You owe him that.”


	21. Ring the Bell Twice

**Disclaimer: I own a lot of shoes, a few pairs of high-end jeans, and more hair products than one person needs, but I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Draco and Hermione were sitting in the common room one dreary April morning when Harry burst in, tripped over his shoelaces, and landed face first on the carpet.

“You lack a certain grace, Potter,” McLaggen sneered.

“I don’t need grace,” Harry proclaimed, getting up and dusting himself off. “I’ve got personality. I’m also a superhero!”

He cheekily grinned like a mad man at the elder boy, stuck up his left arm in front of him and hot footed over to Draco and Hermione with the arm still raised in the air.

“Where’s Tom?” Harry asked, lowering his arm while Draco stared at him like he was mental. “What? Did you forget I’m a superhero?”

Draco blankly stared at his best friend.

“I believe Tom’s trying to hunt down Professor Snape,” Hermione said, having missed Harry’s antics due to having her nose in a book. “What happened?”

“I ran into Tonks,” Harry said, looking weirded out. “She was looking for Dumbledore. Not sure what she was doing on the seventh floor by the Room of Requirement.”

“Isn’t Nott in there?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”

“Why were you there?”

“To see if I could catch him coming out,” Harry admitted, rubbing his hair and making it look crazier than usual. “I just wanted to talk to him. Give him some vague something or other about how there’s a way out, a light at the end of the tunnel, that someone cares.”

“You care?” Draco inquired, sitting back in his seat. “He’s never been nice to you.”

“Yeah, but I understand why he’s mean to me, why he picks on you worse than me. He’s trying to be who his father wants him to be, who he was raised to be.”

“I’m not sure he was raised to be a bully,” Hermione commented. “Draco noted that in the previous timeline, Nott wasn’t anything like this. He, in fact, didn’t even know he existed until after Voldemort returned.”

“He is controlled by Time,” Draco muttered. “Anyway, I take it your mission failed?”

“Yeah, I ran into Tonks. Dumbledore’s gone away again and she was aimlessly wandering around the castle evidently, looking for anyone who knew about the rumors. She wasn’t too clear on what those rumors were, but—”

“The werewolves,” Hermione said. “In the previous timeline, Tonk married Remus.”

Harry made a face.

“She’s hopelessly in love with him,” Draco intoned. “Not sure how he feels about her, though.”

“Sirius is also hopelessly in love with him,” Harry grumbled. “I mean, Remus isn’t exactly ugly, but…”

“But what?” Hermione asked sharply.

“But he’s just a guy! A kind of antisocial guy, too. I mean, he’s nice and all, but why does everyone love him?”

“Only two people love him,” Hermione pointed out.

“But still! Tonks is…rather good looking. So is Sirius. I mean, they’re both Blacks,” Harry said, a strange look appearing on his face. “Atlanta’s mother was also a Black.”

“And looked alarmingly like Sirius,” Hermione remarked.

“What?” Draco and Harry both exclaimed.

“How do you know?” Draco asked.

“Atlanta had a photo of her birth mother that Remus had given to her after Circe Hilderbatch died. I’m not sure where he’d gotten it, but I saw it next to her bed when I was in the dormitory to give something to Ginny. I asked her who that was, as it looked like a female version of Sirius. It was rather disturbing.”

Draco and Harry both stared at Hermione.

“Poor Tonks,” Draco muttered.

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed darkly.

“He won’t like her because she doesn’t look exactly like Sirius?” Harry asked, his voice going a little high.

“It means that Remus is likely so in love with Sirius, he’s ruined for life,” Hermione replied.

Harry did not appear to know how to handle this information, so he got up and left again by raising a fisted hand in the air and shouting, “Up, up, up and away!”

“At least he didn’t trip over his shoelaces. Why doesn’t he tie his shoes properly?” Hermione muttered, going back to putting her nose in the book.

“What is the deal with the fist in the air?”

“It’s a superhero pose,” Hermione said, writing a few more sentences down before inquiring, “Next weekend, there’s that extra practice for those who can take the test this spring. Are we going?”

“Yes. Wait, I mean no. I can’t go. I’m not turning seventeen till June. Nor will Harry be going.”

“But, I will.”

Draco started to find Tom Riddle standing over him, creepy grin on his face.

“I’m already seventeen.”

He looked extremely giddy about this factoid.

“You are?” Hermione inquired. “But you’re…”

“My age is technically indeterminable.”

“You’re fifteen,” Draco pointed out. “You didn’t study for your OWLS, so you were a fourth year. Why is it so hard—”

“OWLs weren’t that big of a deal in my day. They weren’t even mandatory until the sixties.”

“WHAT?” Hermione shrieked, making several people stare at her.

“So, I might never have taken them, being a lowly Muggle-raised half-blood.”

“You would have taken any test to prove your worth,” Draco drawled, narrowing his eyes. “Fine. You’re seventeen. Why didn’t you tell anyone when your birthday is?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Are you serious?”

“No. I’m Tom.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose while Hermione chuckled.

“Tom, you should have let us know it was your birthday, though.”

“But was it really my birthday?”

“On paper it must be if you’re seventeen.”

Tom shrugged.

“Why were you trying to find Snape?” Draco asked.

“The mock trials are going well and I want this over as quickly as possible. I wanted to let Snape know we’re ready, but I was unable to find him. He’s so hard to find lately. It’s like he’s leaving the school.”

“Will Moldy will bring the snake?” Hermione asked. “If he comes here for whatever reason Professor Snape can think to get him here?”

“Snape believes the snake is just a snake.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “Why would you believe him?”

“I’ve analyzed what he said and with what I know of Snake Face. I believe Snape is right. The Dark Idiot wouldn’t make the snake one if he had a better option.”

“Which would be?”

“He was able to get his hands on whatever he was going to use when he went after Harry. He planned to make Harry’s death his last Horcrux.”

Hermione gasped. “He went back to get it?”

Tom shrugged. “Snape claimed the ruins of the cottage remain as they were, a memorial to the Potters and what occurred that night. I have been unable to go myself, but I did inquire if Regulus had been to the village. He said the wand and the object were missing. Voldemort’s cloak and robe were still there, but the wand and anything else he brought with him were gone.”

“Wand?” Draco asked. “They just left the wand sitting there for thirteen years?”

“Yes. Voldemort had it the night he dueled Harry in the graveyard. Didn’t Harry ever tell you that?”

“Oh,” Draco breathed, his eye going wide and an unbidden memory re-entering his head. “Oh.”

“What?” Tom demanded while Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. 

“His wand didn’t work right when he’d turn it on Potter. He took Father’s wand when they went after Potter when they were moving him from the Muggle’s house and into hiding. But, Father’s wand didn’t work right when Snake Face tried to use it on Potter. He was…furious.”

Draco glanced up and saw Hermione looking at him with sympathy while Tom looked calculating.

“Moldy Trousers was gone often throughout your seventh year, correct?”

“Yes. He was gone often. None of us knew what he was looking for, though. Or what he was doing. When he was summoned when we’d captured the Golden Trio during Easter…I’m not sure where he was, but he was…apoplectic when he discovered we’d lost Potter and Friends. He’d been close to finding whatever the hell he was looking for and, well, we ruined it.”

Draco shuddered.

“Do you know where he’d been?”

Draco shook his head. “Far enough he was unable to Apparate straight to the Manor. That’s the only reason they were able to escape. If he’d been close enough to Apparate, they’d never escaped, but he was somewhere in Europe.”

Tom looked thoughtful. “Anything else you remember?”

“I saw Snake Face at Hogwarts. Hours before the battle began, he showed up out of the blue and headed for Dumbledore’s tomb.”

“Dumbledore was buried here?” Tom queried.

Draco nodded. “A lot of the Slytherins wanted to deface the tomb, but it was charmed so we couldn’t do anything to it. Not that I tried.”

Hermione shook her head.

“What would Voldemort want with a rotting body? He hates dead bodies. Death is a weakness,” Tom hissed out, sounding alarming like the Dark Lord.

“Don’t do that,” Hermione gently said.

Tom looked confused.

“You hissed,” Hermione clarified. “Don’t hiss like that. You sound like him.”

Tom looked befuddled but looked at Draco and his eyes went wide. Then, he appeared furious.

“You can’t help it,” Draco assured. “You do share DNA.”

“Never mind,” Tom said. “Clearly Dumbledore was buried with something Voldemort wanted. Something powerful.”

Tom put his hand in the pocket of his trousers and looked thoughtful for a second before his eyes went huge and he tore out of the Common Room.

“Where is he going?” someone asked.

“Likely to find Harry and snog him to death,” replied someone else.

Draco would have laughed at that if he wasn’t worried and scared. He looked at his girlfriend to find her wearing a contemplative expression till she gasped.

“What?”

“Voldemort was after a wand,” she whispered, clutching his hand so hard it hurt. “I read a history last summer on the last Dark Lord. Dumbledore defeated him. The dark wizard was obsessed with something called the Deathly Hallows.”

“What? That’s a children’s story, nothing more.” 

“Yes, I know. I read it after I’d read the history as it’s not a common tale in the Muggle world. The story featured a wand, a stone, and a cloak.”

“I know the story. Mother told it to me when I was a child.”

Hermione stared at him, her eyes a little unfocused. He knew she was sorting through the host of information stored within the confines of her mind. Draco, while feeling impatient, waited for Hermione to uncover whatever she was searching for. It took about ten minutes before she gasped, her brown eyes huge as they refocused on Draco. She looked as if she were sea sick as she swayed back and forth.

“What if they are real? What if the Deathly Hallows are real like Grindelwald believed?”

“Hermione, they’re just tales. They can’t be real,” Draco insisted.

“No. Wait. Listen,” Hermione said, flapping her free hand at him and leaning closer to him. “A powerful wand, more powerful than any other wand ever made. An unbeatable wand. A cloak that hides the wearer completely and will never. Ever. Fray.”

She stared at him hard.

“Harry’s cloak?”

“Yes,” she hissed, leaning even closer. “It’s old. That much is clear, but it shows no signs of wear, the charm on it shows no sign of dying. Harry treats it kindly, but he does shove it into his pocket, into his trunk, and tends to wad it up, yet it always unfolds easily, shows no signs of wear or tears. Yet, it is old. Very old.”

Draco stared at her, not wanting to believe.

“And that ugly ring Tom’s been wearing,” Hermione went on. “He said it was a family heirloom returned to him. It is also really old, yet looks new. While I am sure Tom polished it, it did suffer something, as the stone is cracked down the center, but it did have something on it. This.”

Hermione dropped Draco’s hand, pulled a pen and paper from somewhere, and drew the symbol she’d seen on the ring Tom wore (not that Draco had noticed Tom wearing a ring).

“Grindelwald used it as his symbol, he carved it into everything during the war,” Hermione explained. “Today, people who believe in the Hallows still use it to let others know they believe, but in countries Grindlewald took over during World War II it is still seen as unfavorable due to his use. It’s been redesigned by those who still believe into this in those countries to reclaim the Deathly Hallows from Grindelwald.”

She drew something else, which looked more complicated and didn’t have the simple symbolism the other symbol had.

“But, Tom’s ring has this symbol on it. What if it’s the stone, the one who brings back your dead loved ones.”

“Only they aren’t happy so you die too,” Draco reminded her. “The dead are dead and do not—”

“He brought her back for selfish reasons. He wanted her to stay,” Hermione reminded him. “Also, I doubt Tom wishes to bring back anyone who is dead.”

“Atlanta?”

“No, he’s at peace with her death. He regrets it, yes, he mourns her, yes, but unlike many of us, he understands death and accepts it.”

Draco looked at her doubtfully.

“I’m serious,” Hermione insisted. “And I am sure he and Harry have put that together: they possess two Deathly Hallows between them.”

“You’re thinking Dumbledore had the wand?”

“The Elder Wand, yes. It was rumored Grindlewald had found one of the Hallows. It was never expressly said which one, but he told his follows it brought him great power and he’d find the other two. He’d never get the Cloak, as it’s been in the Potter family for generations. And Voldemort had the ring.”

“Really? At that time he did?”

“Well, no. Whoever his wizarding relations were had the ring, which Voldemort clearly stole and turned into a Horcrux.”

“What? How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t I tell you? That’s why I figured it was split down the middle. While I doubt Voldemort knew of the Deathly Hallows, it was a family heirloom of an important, or formerly important, wizarding family.”

“Which he’d make into a Horcrux. It fits with his M.O.”

“Exactly,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore did have, what, two Horcruxes?”

“Yes, I believe so. But they were the locket Regulus retrieved and the crown from the Room of Requirement.”

Hermione nodded eagerly. “That’s what Regulus and Dumbledore are doing. They’re looking for the remaining Horcruxes. They must have found the ring.”

Draco sat back. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It’s not important at the moment. Do you now what is?”

Draco gave her an impatient look.

“Dumbledore is in possession of the Elder Wand. Tom’s realized this so he’s gone off to tell Snape. You said Voldemort kidnapped Ollivander, right?”

“Correct.”

“And he’s done so again. Why would he kidnap a wand maker unless he wanted a wand?”

“He never had him make him a wand,” Draco realized. “I mean, I wasn’t there when he was questioning Ollivander, but he only used his own wand except when he went after Potter. He took Father’s wand, which he broke.”

“So, he had Ollivander for what? Decorations? No. I think he was questioning him on why he and Harry’s wand reacted the way they do and maybe, just maybe on wand lore itself and the Elder Wand. Ollivander would know of the tales of a Death Stick. I bet all wand makers do.”

“But would he know where it was?”

“Clearly not if Voldemort didn’t show up at Hogwarts till the spring.”

“True. But why would he be in—”

“The wand was last seen in Europe. The history of the Elder Wand is easier to trace than the other two objects. Just look for the bloodiest duels and you’ll likely find it. The last person to publicly claim they had it was a wand maker in Germany. He said a blond imp stole it from him in the dead of the night.”

“It wasn’t me,” Draco deadpanned.

“Grindelwald was blond. And rather impish,” Hermione stated. “You’ve seen photos of him, haven’t you?”

“Not really. We never cover modern history in the History of Magic,” Draco pointed out. “And I wasn’t very…motivated to read on my own about wizarding history.”

“Fine. Take my word that Grindelwald was a blond imp. And claimed to have a Hallow but never said which one he had. Who dueled Grindelwald and defeated him?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Exactly.”

“So, Dumbledore has the Elder Wand? And never told anyone?”

“Would you tell people you had it? It’s got a history steeped in blood. In the tale it was lost because the owner was bragging and someone wanted it.”

“True.”

“It makes sense. And, it’d bring Voldemort here for sure.”

Draco shuddered.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have our final year without the dark cloud of Snake Face looming over us?” Hermione inquired.

Draco nodded. “Yes. That’d be a novelty, as I’ve not had a Snake Face free year in almost thirteen years.”

Hermione gave him a sad look and squeezed his hand once more before letting go to return to her homework. Draco returned to his own and quietly plowed through his Potions essay till Harry and Tom fell into the Common Room, Harry landing on top of Tom. A few people snickered as Harry scrambled off Tom and vanished up the stairs with a tomato red face. Tom stood, brushed himself off, and headed for the table where Hermione and Draco sat. He glanced between them, smirked, and took a seat.

“I knew you’d get there,” he remarked.

“And you’re sure he’ll come for it?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. Snape agreed,” Tom said, evidently finally locating the man. “All we must do is make sure everyone is in the right locations on the correct night.”

* * *

Severus was brooding.

Riddle was too clever for his own good.

It was odd having someone who could think on his level. Especially when that person was technically a fifteen-year-old. (He did not believe for a moment the child was seventeen like he was claiming. Fifteen made more sense with what Adelaide Black had told him when he’d questioned her on the origins of the boy.)

The fire suddenly burst to life with green flames and spit out Sirius Black. He landed in an ungraceful heap on the hearth and remained there until the fire was long dead and only the smell of singed hair and ash remained.

“You don’t keep a fire going in this thing all the time?” Black asked, pushing himself up and resting on his elbows. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Wear more clothes,” Severus drawled, leaning back and relishing in his layers of clothing.

Black snorted, sitting up and brushing the ash off his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair a few times before getting out his wand and rapping himself on the head. He was clean and his usual form within a second. He hauled himself to his feet and shivered, glancing at the floating candles lighting the dungeon room.

“Maybe you ought to transfigure yourself a jumper,” Severus offered.

Black gave him a mulish look.

“Why are you here?”

Severus had not seen Black since the disastrous evening when he’d shown up with a bottle of cheap whiskey. He’d woken in a bedroom within Grimmauld Place and was able to escape through a fireplace connected the to Floo network without alerting anyone in the house he was leaving with a headache and mouth full of wool. He’d suffered his hangover like a Muggle due to the fact he never got drunk so he didn’t have any hangover potion.

“How do you live here? It's dank and freezing. You don’t honestly—”

“Black,” Severus leveled.

“I’m an alcoholic.”

Severus blinked.

“My mind healer told me I needed to tell you, you know if I counted you as my friend. I’ve been working, on the whole…addiction?” Black asked like he wasn’t sure. “She’s a Muggleborn, my mind healer. She is a little strange because I guess Muggles have a whole branch of study for the head and mental things.”

“Yes,” Severus said slowly. “You’re an alcoholic?”

“I used the word correct, right?”

“Yes. If you are saying you’re addicted to alcohol and drink too much too often and suffer symptoms of withdrawal when you go without for extended periods.”

“Yeah. That happened when I was in Azkaban. Didn’t understand what was happening. Also happened after Narcissa got rid of all the booze.”

Severus shifted.

Black ran a hand through his hair and moved his weight back and forth from one foot the other.

“So, erm, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I mean, I liked drinking with you, but it’s not good…for me?”

“Why do you keep asking questions when they ought to be statements?” Severus demanded, standing up.

“You’re…a half-blood,” Black said slowly looking as if he was afraid Severus might attack at any moment. “You should know…something?”

“I know quite a bit,” Severus snapped. “What would you like to know about growing up around an abusive, alcoholic?” 

Black shook his head dumbly, rubbing his hands together before he hugged himself. “Narcissa said…I just…I don’t need to know, but I do need you to know I’m an…alcoholic. I don’t want to be, though. I use it to help me sleep and numb my emotions, as I’m stunted. And I’m scared of going insane.”

The last sentence was whispered. If Severus didn’t have super hearing from years of teaching idiots, he would have missed it. He loosened his body posture and really looked at Black. While his hair was still amazing (stop thinking that), he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a Dementor. Severus lifted his chin and pressed his lips together.

This man was not his father, not even close. Severus took a deep breath and asked, “Would you like to take a seat?”

“Don’t take pity—”

“Take a seat, Black,” Severus snapped. “I dislike alcohol, so we shall now drink tea.”

Black blinked owlishly before taking a seat in the other armchair next to the empty fireplace. Severus swept into the small kitchenette in his rooms. He set the kettle to boil and waited.

“You have a Muggle kettle? How does it work?”

“Adelaide gave it to me.”

“Ah.”

Severus busied himself by mixing tea leaves from his vast selection. When the kettle was done, he’d gotten a mixture he thought might aid Black and help him sleep.

“You should have spoken to me if you were having issues sleeping,” Severus said, thrusting the mug at Black.

Black took it, sniffing it before looking at the mug as if it were a pot of gold. “When was I to do that? You didn’t even look at me till you showed up to talk about Tom.”

Severus made a noise through his nose and sat down opposite Black.

“Drink.”

Black sniffed the mug again before taking a sip.

He downed the whole thing.

“My god, where has this been my whole life?”

“Here.”

Black made a few other appreciated noises and flopped in the armchair. With Severus’ luck, he was going to fall asleep in the chair rather than his own home.

“Remus moved on,” Black proclaimed. “Finally noticed Tonks was madly in love with him and took her up on her offer for…whatever adults do. What do adults do?”

“Have relationships?”

“Yeah. Those things. He and Tonks are trying that,” Sirius said, flapping his hand. “Urgh. That was the most painful conversation I’ve ever had. No, I take it back. The most painful one that started all this crap and…well, stupid Time.”

“Time?”

“Yeah. I am sure Time is the reason for all that…stuff I said to Remus to get him to leave.”

“Didn’t you leave?”

“Well, yeah, I left. Only, I don’t remember. Any of it. I was drunk. For like two weeks,” Sirius grunted out, slouching in the chair further. He stared into the empty mug. “When I got sober enough, I didn’t want to go back to my apartment, so I went to Lanta’s and we had a row and I never left.”

“You left daily to go to work, visit the Potters, and finally go exact your revenge against Pettigrew,” Severus reminded Black.

“Eh. Details,” Black muttered. “God. I was twenty-one. Twenty-one. I’d hardly lived.”

“Have you lived now?”

“Not really. I’ll live after Moldy Trousers is gone for good. You?”

“Moldy Trousers?”

“Yeah, erm, that’s what Addy tends to call him.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “She knows his trousers are moldy?”

“No. First time she said it she said pants, but that make James snicker and she realized what pants meant here.”

Severus nodded. The two lapsed into silence. Severus was about to break the silence by telling Black he ought to go home only to find the other man fast asleep in the chair. Severus pressed his lips together, but retrieved a blanket from his chambers and tossed it at Black. It landed on the man’s chest, not even waking him. Shaking his head, Severus retreated into the bed chamber.


	22. There Is Always a Way

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. Ever.**

* * *

Harry watched the map for days— well, for months, but the last few days of April Harry really dedicated himself to watching. He noticed a pattern: when Nott wasn’t either MIA or slouching around pretending to be a student at Hogwarts, he was in Myrtle’s toilet. The way Draco went out of his way to avoid the corridor where that toilet was located told Harry that something Draco wished to forget had happened there. Draco never been all out comfortable around the area unless they had a clear plan of action, but this year unless Hermione dragged him, Draco refused to go near Myrtle’s toilet.

It was in early May, while most of the school was scurrying to revise for exams when Harry found Nott alone (well, with Myrtle). He decided to go see what Nott was doing in the girl’s loo. It was highly unlikely he was accessing the Chamber of Secrets and while Harry had a sneaking suspicion Nott wasn’t a total moron, it was doubtful when he had access to the Room of Requirements he was brewing an illicit potion in the loo. The halls were empty, but Harry tried to keep to the late afternoon shadows as he crept closer to the girl’s toilet. As he got nearer he could hear the sound of sobbing.

Harry heaved a great sigh as pity and something else shot through him. He slid down the wall outside and forlornly stared at the closed door.

What had this been like for Draco while he was alone, scared, and Voldemort holding his mum’s live over his head? Harry tried to imagine what he’d do in the same situation and was unable to even fathom what Potter would do. Sighing, he hoisted himself to his feet and made the ten steps across the corridor to the door and gently pushed it open. Nott was bent over the sink, ugly crying, while Moaning Myrtle made noises of comfort while hovering over his shoulder.

“I can’t do it,” Nott sobbed. “It’s too much. Why does he expect me to be able to do something this big?”

“You should just fail and you can share my toilet,” Myrtle offered.

Harry stepped fully into the loo and let the door shut behind him. Nott jerked and whirled, wand out and ready to hex. Harry held up both his hands and put on the most innocent look on his face he could muster.

“Hullo,” Harry greeted.

“Come to laugh at me?” Nott sneered.

“No. I just came to tell you it’ll be fine.”

Nott, not lowering his wand, snorted. It was an ugly sound, made worse due to the snot coming out of his nose and the tears all over his face.

“I’m serious. Whatever is the problem now, in a few months, it’ll be over and hopefully we’ll be left with a nicer world.”

Nott scrunched up his face and shot out a hex at Harry’s head.

Harry dodged, rolling on the ground while Myrtle shouted and the toilets exploded water all over. Harry rolled around towards the sinks as Nott continued to blindly toss curses and hexes at Harry. Desperate to get Nott to calm down, Harry shouted, “OPEN!”

Instantly, silence fell as the stone crunched and other things hissed as the Chamber of Secrets opened. Once the hole was open, Nott let out a loud scream. Harry pulled his head up from where he was hiding it under his hands to find Nott pressed against the opposite wall, face white. The floor was covered in water, but the toilets were no longer doing fountain impersonations.

“Are you done?”

Nott dumbly nodded.

Harry got to his feet and brushed himself off.

“Close,” Harry said and the opening slowly closed up under Nott’s watchful eyes. “Okay, so yeah, I can still do that. Or am able to do that. That rumor is true. Okay? Yeah, so, I know the Dark Idiot has set you a task you’re not going to be able to do. He knows that your aunt knows that, Snape knows that, hell, even Dumbledore knows that.”

“How—”

“You don’t want to know,” Harry blithely said, flapping his hand at Nott. “Here’s what you’re going to need to do: stop worrying about killing Dumbledore. You just fix the cabinet and then when you get alone with Dumbledore, just talk. About nothing and everything. Help will come.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, I’m that kind of hero. I gotta save everyone, even bullies like you.”

“I don’t like being a bully. I’m not even sure why I do or say some of the things I do,” Nott admitted. “I guess I hoped to impress Father. Look how well that went for me.”

“Eh,” Harry shrugged. “So, how about my plan?”

Nott pushed himself up and ran a hand over his face. He still looked utterly bewildered but nodded. “Sounds better than anything else anyone has offered me in the past year. But my aunt…”

“Will be fine,” Harry assured. “And before you ask how I know, I know about the Unbreakable Vow. Snape will uphold it.”

“Why? Just so he won’t die?”

“Well, there’s that, but you’re one of his Slytherins. He protects them like a shepherd protects his flock.”

Nott sneered but didn’t refute the statement.

“So, we good here?”

Nott nodded. “And if everything goes wrong?”

“We’ll run away together, along with everyone else who hates Marv.”

Nott shuddered but shook his head. “You are so weird.”

Harry gave him a cheeky smile before he waved and bid Myrtle a good afternoon.

* * *

Summer gripped the castle. Snape upped the number of Dueling Club meetings, pretending they were good for exam stress as well as revision. Tom deemed their merry band of misfits capable of patrolling the corridors before curfew. After curfew small groups worked on stealth movements through the school, dodging teachers and Filch. Draco was in charge of maintaining the rotation of those who had those after hours shifts because he was a prefect and it’d been his duty to put together the prefect rotations.

“How’s it going?”

“Fine. Tonight, we’ve got Ginny, myself, and Hannah Abbot for Stealth Training.”

“Not sure you and Ginny need any more stealth training,” Harry grumbled, falling into the seat next to Draco. “Have you noticed any difference in Nott?”

Draco looked up and blew the hair out of his face. Across the Great Hall, Nott was sitting in No Man’s Land at the Slytherin table. It was where people who hadn’t chosen a side sat and his sitting there was a rather loud statement. Goyle and Crabbe looked pissed and aching to beat Nott into a bloody pulp on the end of the table where the Support Moldy Team sat.

“What happened?”

“I talked to him a few weeks back. Basically told him we know what Marv set him to do,” Harry cheerily went on. “And it was going to be okay.”

Draco stared at Harry wide-eyed. “How the hell do you know it’s going to be okay?”

“Because I’m a superhero!” Harry reminded Draco with a cheeky grin, pulling on arm back and thrusting the other over his head.

“Long live the Boy-Who-Was-Mental,” Draco muttered. He began to fill his plate with potatoes.

“That is not a good superhero name. How about Captain Hogwarts?” Harry asked, piling his plate high with bangers and mash. “So, we taking exams this year?”

“Yes,” Draco answered. “It was in the period after we’d sat our exams I managed to fix the vanishing cabinet. So, it’s likely Nott won’t fix it till then.”

“Bugger. I was hoping to get out of them,” Harry grumbled. “I guess I ought to study.”

“You should.”

Harry grumbled and thrust a forkful of mash into his mouth.

* * *

May dragged on. Harry stopped vanishing off to do strange lessons with but spent a lot of time writing what appeared to be music. Tom read what he was writing one day and blanched.

“Why are you writing that down?”

“To teach the crew,” Harry said, sticking his tongue out. “Addy said if I wrote the music down, she could play it. She’ll be here this weekend. She said she knew of a music room.”

“I didn’t know you read music,” Hermione remarked, looking over Harry’s other shoulder. “Though, you ought to be revising. Exams start Monday.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“He doesn’t read music,” Tom pointed out. “He’s written down the words and now he’s…I’m not sure.”

“Writing how the music flows. If you helped, maybe—”

“I don’t write music.”

“But you can read it?”

“No.”

“But you can sing.”

“No.”

Harry snorted, but when back to what he was doing. He finished it, sealed it in an envelope, then hurried out of the library.

“How is that going to make any sense to Addy?”

Tom shrugged, going back to his Potions revision.

Harry never returned to the library that evening. Draco and Tom found Harry sitting in the Common Room with Luna, who had a strange looking instrument in her mouth. Colin Creevey and his little clone brother were both holding odd looking Muggle objects that seemed to be recording what Luna was doing on the odd pipe. Next to him, Tom froze, his blue eyes going large.

“I guess she got it right?” Draco inquired.

“Yes,” Tom whispered.

Colin Creevey hit the bottom on the object and said, “I think we got it! So glad your friend told us how to get these to work here. Been dying to record things for Da back home!”

“Yeah!” echoed Brother Clone.

“Oh god,” Tom muttered.

“Thanks, Luna!” Harry said. “You coming tomorrow still?”

“Oh, of course, Harry. I’d love to hear Addy’s version.”

Luna pocketed the pipe and drifted off, giving Draco a dreamy smile and patting Tom on the cheek. Harry took the thing Colin handed him and added it to the package he had waiting. Hedwig appeared in the open window and vanished into the night with the package.

“I believe I will retire,” Tom proclaimed, vanishing before Draco could say goodnight. Since Harry was still entertaining the Creevey brothers, Draco followed Tom to the dormitory. Upon entering, he saw Tom had shut his curtains tightly and was pretending to snore up a storm with Neville, who always snored. Tom, not so much. Rolling his eyes, Draco got ready for bed.

* * *

The next afternoon, the group met in the room Luna was only able to access (well, Oliver Wood and Percy, along with a few people on accident could, but only Luna on purpose). There was a piano in the center of the room and Addy stood looking nervous and excited next to it. After scanning the room, Draco concluded Tom was not going to show up.

“I’m sure he knows it,” Draco assured her.

“But he has such a lovely voice,” Luna lamented.

“We all here?” Addy asked, her Southern America accent making several students startle. “Hi, I’m Addy Lupin. Cousin of your old professor. Got bored in America, so I came to the Spellsmith Headquarters to tutor some new smiths. Honestly, we need more of y’all to come get a Mastery in Spell craft! Pays well, and it’s totally fun.”

Addy smiled, showing off her huge white teeth.

Several students took several steps back. Harry sighed.

“She’s not mental. Just a little excited,” Harry said, taking charge. “Now, during the last few…battles I’ve had with Moldy Face, something’s happened that kind of rendered him useless.”

“What?” someone asked flatly.

“If there’s something that renders him useless, then why don’t you use it right now to get rid of him?”

“It’s a song. It doesn’t render him…useless. That was the wrong word. It distracts him. It’s how I managed to escape fourth year, how he didn’t notice me getting a poisonous fang to stab his evil diary of doom, and distracted him last year during his duel with Atlanta Lupin.”

“She died.”

“Bellatrix stabbed her in the stomach,” Tom flatly said before Harry could meltdown in front of everyone. Seeing Harry looked as if he might throw up, so Tom took over. “Atlanta Lupin wrote the song we’re going to teach you and it means something to Voldemort. We’re not sure what, exactly, but it distracts him, freezes him in his path. Do you know what you a second can do for you in a duel with that man? Everything. A second is all it takes to hide, to get cover and protect you from his all time favorite spell.”

“AK-47,” Harry proclaimed, his chin up and an odd look on his face.

Several Muggleborn snickered, while the kids raised in wizarding society all looked confused.

“Ha!” Addy laughed loudly. “Okay, so I’m going to play the song. Many of y’all heard this when Cedric Diggory died. Atlanta sang it for y’all then. I’ve been up all night to learn this.”

Harry produced sheets of music with words, looking really proud of himself.

“If you can’t read music, that’s fine. Just sing along with the words. We’ve got all afternoon to learn this.”

“After we learn it, what will we do with it?” Neville asked, staring at the sheet of music in his hands with wide eyes.

“If you happen to see him, sing it,” Harry said. “Pick a verse, learn it well, and then shout it at him.”

“What if it’s the music that affects him?” Hannah Abbot inquired. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have something charmed to make the noise?”

“I’m working on that,” Tom reported. “But, due to exams, I’ve not had the time to make enough for everyone. So, we’re going to sing now, learn the words and melody and hopefully by the time we need them, I will have the badges charmed.”

Hannah and several others nodded. Most still looked bewildered, Zabini and Weasley being among them.

* * *

Two hours later, Draco had the song memorized and never wanted to hear it again.

“Do you think this will work?” Neville asked, clutching the sheet music as he and Draco left the room. “I cannot carry a tune.”

“Then, it’ll really distract him.”

Neville snickered. “Sure. Okay. Do you think we’re ready? I mean, in past years Voldemort usually attacks after exams.”

Draco looked at Neville, then glanced around at the various students pouring out into the second-floor corridor.

“Yeah. I think we have a really good chance.”

Neville took a deep breath. “Okay, then, I guess I’m learning to sing.”

* * *

“Severus,” greeted a cold voice.

Severus stepped into the dining room of Malfoy Manor and walked to the end opposite from where the Dark Lord sat by the fire. He stood, waiting. On the table in front of the Dark Lord was a very ugly necklace and some other items that Severus was unable to make out in the gloom filling the formerly bright, stately room.

“My lord,” Severus murmured, bowing his head deeply.

“Sit, Severus, sit.”

Severus pulled the chair in front of him but stopped when the Dark Lord made a noise of protest. Severus saw the white hand extending to the chair to his left. Severus moved to the indicated chair and sat. He did not look at the items on the table closely, but the ugly necklace was glowing.

“What do you know of Merlin?”

“He sorted into Slytherin,” was the first thing that Severus thought about. “He was likely taught by Slytherin himself due to the time period he was active within.”

The Dark Lord made a noise of agreement. “I was so proud to find out Merlin was a Slytherin. Yet, now…I am at loose ends on what to make of him.”

Severus did not speak but watched out of the corner of his eye the Dark Lord’s slim, bony, bone-white finger trace the edges of the necklace. It pulsed green.

“I came upon this necklace during those years I was learning all I could about the Dark Arts,” the snake-like man offered for some unknown reason. “There is quite a bit of information on Merlin, did you know that? Where there is little on Salazar Slytherin, there is a plethora on Merlin and I believed it had to be forged. Upon finding out about this amulet, I knew I was right.”

Severus stared right at the green pulsating stone till the Dark Lord removed his finger. Keeping his eyes lowered, Severus watched as the other man folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them.

“What Muggle-loving fool would use blood in spells?” his hissed, the smile clear in his tone.

Severus stared at the thing on the table as it went on blinking.

“Do you know what this is?”

“No, my lord.”

“Of course you do not. Its history was hidden in the depths of Eastern Europe and almost lost in the upheaval after the Muggle war,” the Dark Lord simply said. “However, I found the Dark Art histories that traced the amulet through time and told me where it was located. Upon returning to this country, I set about trying to find it. It took me years upon years to finally trace it to the Blacks.”

Severus said nothing. He noticed the outer edges were made out of gold and finely done— nothing like the ugly ring Severus had had in his hands, nor the hideous gold locket he’d caught Riddle staring at one day in class. He’d seen the huge letter S and the emeralds and guessed instantly what it was: an heirloom from the Slytherin family.

This, though, this was a little too finely done for the time period the Dark Lord was claiming it was from. Also, Merlin had never been a rich man due to most of his money going to fund the endeavors of the Order of Merlin to encourage wizards to live peacefully alongside Muggles.

Crazy that the Order of Merlin was now a medal awarded to wizards and witches. Sometimes bought by families who would never in a million years live next door to a Muggle and were dead set on doing anything to promote being at peace with Muggles.

“This is an amulet Merlin enchanted for his Muggle king,” the Dark Lord sneered. “To aid him in his battle with Morgana. He imbued it with his blood and several Dark spells.”

The fingers came apart and one began to stroke the stone once again. It pulsed green faster.

“As we both know, Merlin is not known for his use of Dark magic,” the Dark Lord purred. “The fact this exists and in here there’s a vial containing his magical blood is proof the historical Merlin we know is a lie.”

The Dark Lord spat out the last sentence, so Severus extended his head in agreement. Since the publication of _The Slytherin Journals_ , Severus was pretty sure the Merlin everyone learned about— the Muggle protecting and loving fool— was, in fact, true. The documentation was correct, not spoiled as it was with Slytherin. History had an odd way of playing out and shaping itself. If the journals had never been found, maybe Severus would have believed what the Dark Lord was presenting.

“I have been working with this amulet since my rebirth,” the Dark Lord went on. “Barty was kind enough to retrieve this along with my wand.”

Severus worked hard not to tense his body and cock his head to the side to indicate he was curious to know what the Dark Lord was willing to share.

“I believed when I went to the Potter’s I had no need for a shield,” the Dark Lord went on, “so I corrupted the spells placed upon the amulet for protection. I believed the Darker spells would be enough. I was wrong.”

Severus pretended to be surprised the Dark Lord was admitting fault with himself. As it was, he heard of several occasions the Dark Lord admit he was wrong, present his reasoning, then go on to conquer the thing he had gotten wrong. (One time, though, he tore down the building he had been living within, but no one spoke of that occasion.) 

“I’ve painstakingly replaced the spells I took away,” the Dark Lord proclaimed. “This time, when I face Harry Potter, I will not fail.”

Severus nodded his agreement.

“This, though, this will be my crowning glory,” the Dark Lord proclaimed, snatching a vile of blood from the back of the amulet. “Merlin’s blood will assure my long life.”

“My lord,” Severus murmured, his stomach twisting at the sight of the pulsing red tube of blood.

Blood did not do that. Even magical blood or blood infused with Dark Magic.

That wasn’t blood at all but in fact some sort of potion.

Severus glanced at the necklace and found it looking quite normal without the vial behind the stone.

“Severus, why did you request this meeting?” Voldemort inquired, putting the vial of potion back in its place.

Severus sat up, let a false smile appear in his eyes as he said, “The boy Tom Riddle told me he believes Dumbledore to be in possession of the Elder Wand.”

Voldemort’s pleased face was no less frightening than his angry face.

* * *

Severus burst out of his third fireplace in less than five minutes and collapsed to the ground, coughing out the ash he’d accidentally swallowed.

“Are you being followed?”

Severus leaped to his feet, pulling his wand and putting himself right. He glared at Black, who was leaning against the doorway of the room Severus had flooed into, which wasn’t the usual room.

“Where am I?”

“Draco’s room,” Black supplied, grinning. “No idea why it spit you out here, other than I was in the room next door.”

Severus strode out of the room, feeling strange to be standing in his godson’s private domain.

“So, what’s crawled up your butt?”

“Nothing so crass, Black.”

“Will you please call me Sirius?” whined the other man, pouting. “I think we’ve reached the point where can call each other by our first names, haven’t we, Severus?”

Severus hated when Black used his first name, mostly because his name said in the cultivated tones of a pureblood was unnerving and made his name sound almost elegant.

“You are anything but serious,” Severus quipped, knowing the other’s man love of punning his own unfortunate first name.

Instead of answering with the usual answer, Sirius smiled.

And Severus stopped breathing.

He had seen that smile lighting up Sirius’ face before and never in a million years would he have thought that smile Sirius saved for those he care for deeply aimed at him.

How had that happened?

“Severus,” came Narcissa’s voice and breaking the moment. “What do you we owe the pleasure?”

Severus straightened. “I’ve just come from the Dark Lord.”

Narcissa’s face went from friendly to deadly in a second.

“He is going to use some sort of amulet he claims belonged to Merlin to protect him as he uses a potion that was attached to the amulet to create his final Horcrux.”

Sirius growled while Narcissa pressed her lips together, looking mildly confused.

“What does a potion have to do with the Founders?”

“He believes the vial to be the blood of Merlin, arguably the most famous wizard to grace Slytherin House.”

“Why does he believe that? Merlin…he did not dabble with Blood Magic. He wasn’t…exactly…”

“He was a Muggle-loving fool according to my mother,” Sirius offered.

“Hence why she was more than willing to give up the artifact in question.”

“Excuse me?” Narcissa asked, her tone flat.

“The Dark Lord spent years tracking the artifact in question, even after his first tracking failed to turn up the necklace. He managed to trace it to something your father obtained for the family vault,” Severus went on, turning towards Sirius. The bright gray eyes locked on him.

“He knew,” Narcissa breathed. “Oh, god, he knew.”

Narcissa sat down without looking and somehow wound up in a chair Severus swore wasn’t there a moment ago.

“He knew what?” Severus asked turning to Sirius who was staring at his cousin with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“He knew Marv was looking for…objects to turn into Horcruxes,” Sirius explained. “He left a note in a box Narcissa found in his vault. He didn’t mention—”

“He likely thought it was safe, as the vault passed into your control upon his death,” Narcissa filled in. “What did this amulet look like?”

Severus described it the best he could and Narcissa stood and swiftly left the two men in the hall. Sirius stared at Severus for a beat before he hurried after his cousin. Severus followed Sirius up several flights of stairs until they entered a library, which by the size was a personal one filled with white books.

“What is this?”

“A written record of everything in the Black Family vaults,” Sirius answered. “If it leaves the vault, it’ll state where it went and why. Or where it came from. Some relative at some point decided Goblins weren’t to be trusted.”

Severus snorted.

Sirius wound his way through the rows of white books till he found Narcissa. She was holding open a book and frowning deeply. She looked up at the noise of their approach and scowled. Sirius frowned, taking the extended book. Narcissa had another slimmer book under her arm.

“This it?” Sirius asked, his face pale and a little green.

Severus took the book from Sirius and gasp as it shocked him.

“Bloody hell, I’m sorry. I forgot they do that. Bloody bastard,” Sirius muttered, picking the book back up.

“Only those on the Black Family tree are able to touch these,” Narcissa gently said while giving Sirius a deadly glare.

“Here, I’ll hold, you look.”

Severus glowered at Sirius before looking at the open pages before him.

“That’s it.”

His eyes scanned the page, taking in what was recorded about the object obtained by Orion Black. He’d gotten it from a dealer in Dark Arts artifacts in Wales, who believed it belonged to Morgan La Fey, not Merlin. Orion Black noted that he did not think it belonged to either, as he believed it dated from the mid-eighteeth century. It had no magical properties when Orion bought it. He added all of them himself.

Orion Black had set the Dark Lord up.

“Didn’t do his research well, did he?” Sirius quipped.

“No,” Severus said, reading the amulet had been gifted to Tom Riddle by Walburga Black on the 16 June 1981. “He had the amulet several months before he went actively after the Potters.”

“I want to know how he managed to look like Tom Riddle,” Narcissa muttered, crossing her arms. “At that time, he looked nothing like the boy she’d known.”

“No,” agreed Sirius, closing the book. “But, she was rather…insane by that point in time. She likely believed whatever he happened to tell her.”

“Why didn’t he kill her?” Narcissa inquired.

“Probably because she was out of her gourd. After Reggie vanished and Father was murdered in her own home, she went round the bend. She blasted House Elves left and right, tore things off the wall, stuck herself to the wall in the entry way to shriek at everyone who entered the house—”

“Sirius,” Narcissa interrupted, looking at the ground, “the date, tell me the date again.”

Sirius reopened the book and flicked through the pages. “16 June 1981.”

Narcissa put her fingers to her lips and stared into space. “She was so different suddenly. I…I brought Draco over after his first birthday to see her, as he was the heir, as you were unlikely to have children.”

“And Reggie was dead, so, what happened?”

“She was so calm,” Narcissa whispered. “I figured it was a good day, but she was calm and pleasant until the day she died.”

“Seriously?”

Narcissa nodded. “What do you think he did to her?”

Sirius shrugged. “Last time I saw her she sent a few Unforgivable at me and accused me of murdering my father. I mean, I only came here to make sure…you know, I’m not even sure why I came back. I thought I’d be disinherited, but I got in here all the same. Should have been my first hint, but I was angry because Addy and Reggie were dead, so I didn’t really think about the fact the house let me inside when it shouldn’t have even been noticeable to me.”

“The Dark Lord is proficient in mind spells. They are a favorite of his,” Severus softly added. “He might have tried something to addle her mind, only he fixed what might have been broken on accident.”

Narcissa and Sirius exchanged looks. Sirius shrugged, closing the book and throwing it at the shelf. It re-shelved itself.

“What about the vial of pulsating potion? It says nothing about the vial of what the Dark Lord believes to be Merlin’s blood.”

Narcissa took the slim book out from under her arm and opened it up to the middle. Holding it near her mouth she said, “Blood colored potion, pulsing light.”

Narcissa pulled the book away and looked down at it, suddenly bursting out laughing.

“What?” Sirius asked, looking eager and a little leery.

“Cassiopeia.”

“Oh no.”

Severus looked at the pair before asking, “Well, are we going to go find the book for the entry?”

“We ought to, as we should know what the potion does,” Sirius suggested. “With Great Aunt Cassie, who knows? Last time her potion made Tom out of drawing and some magic.”

Narcissa looked at the slim book, then set off further down the row of white books. She turned a few times before pulling a book off a low shelf. After she found the entry, she read for a minute, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Sirius demanded, grabbing the book. He held it so both he and Severus could read. Upon reading what the so-called Blood of Merlin actually was, Severus snickered, smiling. He looked up at met Sirius’ eyes, which were filled with laughter. “He cannot be serious.”

“He isn’t. You are,” Severus quipped, his smile out of control. He was even showing his teeth (which weren’t as yellow as they were thanks to a potion, but they were still very crooked).

“We are so winning,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over Severus’ shoulder. Severus felt warm. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the close proximity of another human being, or the flush of the knowledge the Dark Lord had made a grievous error.

The potion wasn’t anything other than a light. A red light potion to aid Cassiopeia Black to brew something else that was much more dangerous.


	23. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

 

The fireplace burst with green flames, spitting out a jumble of dark clothing and hair onto Dumbledore’s office floor. Dumbledore slowly stood from his spot by the window where he’d sat earlier in the evening while watching his students roam the grounds enjoying the fact exams were over and summer awaited them. If Dumbledore had not witnessed this scene a few times before, he’d be amazed a Black could be so ungraceful and uncoordinated, but it only meant Regulus had found the last, unknown Horcrux.

“Where is it?” Dumbledore asked as the flames died and Regulus leaped to his feet with the agility of youth.

“Godric’s Hallow.”

Dumbledore was taken aback. “Where he met his downfall? How can that be?”

“I know we crossed it off earlier, as we assumed he had no ties to the village other than where he met his match, but it is a village with a lot of wizarding history and many prominent wizards hail from there. That in itself would appeal to him. Also, he found…your sister.”

“My sister?” 

“I searched the graveyard, looking at graves and trying to find any relatives to Voldemort,” Regulus went on, too caught up in his adrenaline to notice Dumbledore’s battle to keep himself collected. “Tom mentioned he was related to the Perevelles. There was a collection of them in the graveyard, but none of these Perevelles are from the branch that Tom’s related to, but I found your family graves.”

Regulus looked up, his face shining with triumph. Dumbledore looked pleasantly interested and Regulus pushed on.

“So, then, as I was standing there, this old lady comes walking up. She’s really old, older than dirt from the looks of it, but she says she’s Bathilda Bagshot. The name sounded familiar, so I chatted with her. She thought it strange I was standing in the graveyard at this time of night, but I said I was looking for family, only got distracted by seeing the headmaster’s surname. She proceeded to tell me quite a tale, sir, but the important bit: your sister.”

“Why is my sister important?”

“Because, sir, Calliope Riddle was Voldemort’s sister.”

“She did not die—”

“He did not know that.”

“So, what does that have to do with my sister?”

Regulus swallowed and looked unsure. “Well, sir, he disliked you. That much we all know, what if he…”

“Used our old home as a place to hide a Horcrux connected to his sister?”

Regulus nodded. “Ms Bagshot pointed out the home where your family dwelled when I walked her back to her own. After I saw her to her home, I checked out the place and it felt…strange. There was a family living there, so I was unable to go inside, but there was something in the back garden. Something not right.”

“We cannot break into a family home, Regulus.”

“I know, sir. I do not believe we will have to, as the ominous feeling is from the garden and that area of the garden is overgrown with weeds. The garden backs up against a hedge that has been uncared for and another house that is abandoned. We can try to investigate by going in through the abandoned lot. Between the weed and the hedge, the family living in your old home won’t notice us. I believe the Horcrux, like the others, might be located underground.”

“The one in the school was not underground,” Dumbledore mildly pointed out.

“Nor the one hidden with Malfoy, sir, but the others have all been underground. He buries them like a pirate buries his treasure.”

Dumbledore let out a weak chuckle. He did not wish to go back to Godric’s Hallow. After Ariana died and was buried, Dumbledore had fled the village and never set foot in it again. He was willing to when the nasty business with the Potters had begun, but they had chosen Peter Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper, saving Dumbledore from having to visit the village, yet dooming themselves. He hadn’t even gone to investigate the area Voldemort met his so-called end. He’d sent Hagrid.

It seemed to be time to return.

“Regulus, take the Floo to Three Broomsticks. I will go by foot and meet you outside. Rosemerta must see us head to Hogshead. I have a feeling whatever Mr Nott is up to will come to a head tonight.”

Regulus looked momentarily confused before he nodded. He went to the fireplace, threw in the Floo powder, and was gone. Dumbledore took a moment to gather his traveling cloak before he sent a note to Severus via Fawkes.

“Tell him it’s tonight. Be prepared,” he said before exiting his office.

He slowly walked down the halls of the school, taking his time to enjoy the corridors he knew so well. As he neared the living areas, the noise grew as most of the students were returning to their Common Rooms for the night. He smiled as he passed a few students.

This would be the last time he walked the corridors of the building where he’d run after the horrible events of that summer after his graduation from the same school he’d taken solace.

That was all he’d done: run away.

He’d never forgiven himself, never allowed himself to possess any power at all. And he’d been right, as when presented with the Resurrection Stone, he’d worn it heedless of the curse upon it.

It was fitting he was slowly being killed for his greed. His greed before had led to an innocence’s death.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore startled at the voice, turning to find Adelaide Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks both standing before him. Nymphadora looked much rosier than she’d been looking previously. Her hair was bright pink again. Seemed things with Remus were going well.

“Ah, you’ve arrived,” Dumbledore answered by way of greeting. “Good, good. Are more on the way?”

Adelaide nodded. “I had a feeling tonight was the night. Not the exact date I remember, but close.”

Nymphadora looked confused but said nothing.

“Keep them safe,” Dumbledore said before bidding the pair goodnight and heading down the stairs to the Entrance Hall. It was still filled with students, milling around and socializing. He spotted Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, an unlikely pair, arguing about something. Behind them stood another person Dumbledore never thought he’d seen within the walls again: Tom Riddle. Upon catching sight of Dumbledore, Tom bashed the two boy’s heads together, despite their height difference, and said a few sharp words.

Dumbledore rose his hand in farewell before going out the front doors. He ambled through the grounds till he started up the path leading to Hogsmeade in the gathering twilight. He enjoyed the smells of warm grass, lake water, and wood smoke coming from Hagrid’s cabin. He felt at peace.

He opened the gates and headed down the deserted lane to Hogsmeade, the darkness descending fast as he walked towards the High Street. By the time he reached the High Street, night had fallen in earnest and the twinkling lights in the shop windows were his only light till the street lamps were lit in a few minutes. As he neared Three Broomsticks, he noticed Regulus lurking in the shadows. There was raucous shouting coming from within the pub.

“—and stay out!” shouted Madam Rosemerta, forcibly ejecting a grubby-looking wizard. “Oh, hello, Albus…out for a late stroll.”

“Good evening, Rosemerta, good evening. Forgive me, but I felt like a drink. As I feel I need a quieter atmosphere, I’ll be heading down to Hog’s Head.”

The bespelled (it was easy for Dumbledore to figure that out after what happened to Katie Bell) barkeep nodded and returned inside. Dumbledore continued to walk towards the pub till he was joined by Regulus. After a quick glance around, he nodded.

“Where shall we head?” Dumbledore asked.

“The Potter’s. We’ll walk from there,” Regulus said and popped away.

Dumbledore shortly followed.

* * *

“It’s tonight,” Tom said, knocking their heads together. “Gather the forces. I’ll get the badges I’ve managed to finish. Meet in Luna’s room. I’ve already alerted Luna.”

“I’ll hold the door,” Luna said, skipping passed the boys and heading upstairs.

“What Order members are here?” Draco asked, rubbing his forehead where it’d rammed into Harry’s.

“Tonks, Addy, Lupin, and I think the eldest Weasley are on patrol.”

Draco nodded. “Harry, alert Sirius and tell him to let Mother know. I’ll go find Hermione. She’s got the main coin.”

Harry nodded, darting off. Draco turned on his heel and hurried towards the library where he knew Hermione was doing revision for her upcoming internship at the Ministry in the Magical Animal division (Draco couldn’t remember the actual name). He ought to be doing some sort of revision as well, just in case he did get the Spellsmith internship, as they’d not let anyone know as of yet according to the last letter he’d gotten as they’d gotten so many qualified applicants they were having trouble choosing. Draco was supposed to find by next week.

Upon finding Hermione in a quiet corner, he sat down, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She looked up a soft smile on her face. It fell off once she saw his expression and she grew very serious.

“It’s tonight?”

Draco nodded.

“It’s earlier than before,” Hermione remarked, closing up her book and putting it on the cart to be returned.

“Dumbledore left the school, making sure we saw him as he did.Tom is getting his badges and Luna’s holding the room open on the second floor near the toilets. You’ve got the magic coin?”

Hermione gave him a dirty look. “Always. What should we say?”

“Luna’s Room, 20:00.”

Hermione nodded, programming the message. She sent it and waited a moment.

“What are we to do till then?” Hermione questioned, putting the coin back into her pocket.

Draco had so many things he wanted to do but knew many of them were inappropriate, so instead he settled on dragging Hermione into a dark corner and kissing her as if it were the last time he’d be able to do so.

* * *

Tom stood stiffly side by side with Harry at the front of the room. Luna flounced in, the old, oaken door shutting quietly behind her. Harry squared his shoulders and clutched the clipboard. Everyone was either examining the musical buttons Tom had provided or staring at Harry with ashen expressions. Harry cleared his throat and the whole room fell silent.

“Uh, as you know, you’ve willingly joined…the school’s army should the school ever come under attack. Whilst there are…adults here to patrol the hallways, tonight we fear there will be a direct attack on the school from the Death Eaters.”

“How do you know this?” Zacharias Smith called out.

Tom still wasn’t sure how he had wound up in the group.

“Dumbledore left the school tonight,” Harry reported. “Whilst he’s been doing this all year, tonight he made sure we saw him. As you are aware several attacks have been made on students throughout the year, likely by someone who has the job of killing Dumbledore. Tonight, while he’s outside the school, we believe this person will let the Death Eaters in and finish the job.”

“You think there’s a student in league with the Death Eaters?” someone called out and muttering broke out across the room.

“Of course there is,” Weasley shouted over the muttering.

“Well, who is it? A Slytherin?”

“So what if it is? His family are all Death Eaters and he’s being punished for his families failing from last summer,” Zabini proclaimed as if he was simply stating the weather forecasted for the day and the group were all morons for not knowing.

“If you know who it is—“ started Smith.

“SHUP UP,” Harry bellowed. “It doesn’t matter at the moment who it is, it matters we protect this school. It is OUR school. Not THEIR school. If they THINK they can get THEIR Death Munchers in here, THEY are going to be in for a major surprise. Do you think they even KNOW what we’ve been doing behind the scenes? Outside of our usual meetings at Dueling Club?”

The group shifted, but Tom could see several people smiling.

“Exactly. They don’t know we’ve been doing outside Dueling Club to protect our school.”

Tom shook his head, hoping Harry would stop talking soon. If he kept going, he was going to be giving a long winded speech and they didn’t have the time for that.

“Right, so, I’ve got your assignments. You’ll all be stationed all over the school. Tom?”

Tom waded through the crowd. He pointed his wand at the clipboard Harry was extending, then threw the assignments up into the air so everyone could read them from where they stood. He wasn’t sure the assignments would be all that surprising, as they’d been doing these sort of drills since they’d returned from the holidays. Tom met his group of Luna, Ginny, and Dean Thomas. After making sure the three under his care all had wands and Ginny had access to her button easily, Tom led them to the seventh-floor corridor outside the room where Nott and his band of Death Munchers would burst forth.

* * *

The village hadn’t changed that much at first glance, but it was dark, so it might have. Regulus didn’t linger in the spot they’d Apparated, not bothering to look at the cottages on the narrow row or take note of the transformed war memorial as he walked passed it. Dumbledore paused to take in the three figures seated together: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in her arms. Sighing, Dumbledore strode off to catch up with Regulus.

Regulus knew where he was going and found the small cottage easily. Before Dumbledore even reached it, he felt the dark, sinister magic that was familiar and unwanted. He came to stand next to Regulus.

“I wonder how these poor people live here?”

“Unhappily,” Regulus murmured as shouts sounded from within the cottage and a plate smashed against the wall. “The Horcrux and the enchantments on the hidden place have been influencing anyone who lives nearby. A pair of Muggles live there now. And it’s the only house not abandoned within the Horcrux reach.”

Dumbledore glanced around. Regulus was correct. The entire neighborhood was unlived in and crumbling save for his old house and Bathilda’s home across the street.

“Well, let us rid them of this influence, shall we?”

Regulus nodded, leading the way into the overgrown bush. Dumbledore snooped as he followed the shorter man. He stood up straight as the bush opened up and created a hallowed room, at which at the center was a magical door that Dumbledore knew was there, but it was unlikely Regulus knew.

“You were correct,” Dumbledore said, stepping around the room. “Even if this room wasn’t magically here, there is a door here.”

“I knew it,” Regulus muttered, pressing his lips tightly together.

Dumbledore raised his hands, feeling the spot in the center of the chamber. It was familiar magic. He began to murmur in the language of Ancient Runes, feeling out the magic and trying to guess how to make the door appear. He sighed when he concluded Voldemort had no creativity.

“It’s the same as the cave,” he complained.

“Honestly?”

“Hmmm,” Dumbledore muttered, pulling his wand out. “I guess since you and Adelaide were both dead, he feared no one would figure this out.”

“Or he wanted them to,” Regulus offered as Dumbledore slashed his wand across his palm. Regulus flinched but hadn’t offered to make the blood payment. He knew better by now.

As soon as the blood hit the door, it appeared; darkly shimmering into existence. It blazed white around the edges before flattening itself into the ground and opening to reveal a twisting staircase.

“Ah, seems you were right once more,” Dumbledore proclaimed, healing the cut on his palm. 

Regulus grunted, putting his wand up high and lighting it. He did not look excited to be venturing underground. Without offering to go first or stating he was going to, Regulus charged down the stairs. Tutting, Dumbledore followed. The stairs weren’t very long, maybe only a floor down. Dumbledore half expected to find another lake, but instead, there was simply another magical doorway. Regulus looked around, confused.

“It’s another hidden passage,” Dumbledore said, approaching the spot. “This one is different. Something new.”

Dumbledore felt around, muttering again. This door felt young, vibrate, and giddy to be found. It was strange. The door in the cave was dark, calm, while the protections at the Gaunt hovel were similar, yet cruder. This enchantment was more advanced than either, meaning this was likely the last place he had hidden a Horcrux before his downfall. According to Narcissa Malfoy’s theory, this Horcrux was made from the death of Regulus’ father, Orion Black.

“What does it want?”

“Familial blood,” Dumbledore realized. “Mine won’t do, as I’ve never been related to Voldemort.”

Regulus looked horrified. “You mean we’ve got to go get Tom?”

“No, I’m sure your blood will do, as you are a Black,” Dumbledore gently reminded him. “I am sure it’ll open for a Black, no matter how distantly related.”

“Rather distantly,” Regulus grunted, giving Dumbledore a look. Dumbledore mildly smiled, knowing where the giddiness of the magic came from Atlanta Siria Black.

Regulus cut his own palm, dripping blood where Dumbledore indicated. As the blood hit the spot, a chest appeared.

Dumbledore gasped.

“What?” Regulus asked, wiping his palm on his dark trousers. “You’ve seen this before?”

“In fact I have,” Dumbledore said, circling the old school chest. “I was with her when we bought it on our trip to Diagon Alley. She liked it because it was purple and green.”

It was faintly purple, but the green had long since turned black. Regulus squatted down and stared at the inscription on the front, reading, “Calliope Wren Riddle.”

“After she had gone missing, her trunk was put into Slughorn’s care. He allowed me to search it during my own search for the child, but I found nothing of value within it.”

He left out he’d kept the guitar, partly because it was interesting magic and partly because he knew he’d one day see the child again as he’d found the school bag from the future. He figured Tom knew the child was from the future, hence why he kept her around in the first place.

“Why is it here?”

“The last thing he turned into a Horcrux before he set after Harry was tied to Calliope,” Dumbledore said, circling the trunk once more.

It was protected by some powerful curses, yet it was easy for the right person to get through. He wanted a bit more time to study the weaving of the magic before allowing Regulus to open the trunk.

“Before Harry? How do you know?”

“The magic here is only slightly younger than the magic in the cave,” Dumbledore explained, “It’s also sophisticated, delicate, and thought out. He learned from his mistakes in the cave.”

Regulus nodded. 

Dumbledore made one more circuit before backing up. “Regulus, open it.”

“What?” the younger man squeaked. “It cannot be that easy.”

“Trust me, it is.”

Regulus gave him an unsure look, but stepped forward and flung the trunk open. He waited for a booby trap to go off, but when no such thing happened he looked bemused.

“I do not believe he thought anyone other than himself or Calliope would ever set foot within this chamber.”

“But, he put it here to mock you,” Regulus pointed out.

“Exactly. I would be able to get this far if I happened upon it, but I’d be unable to open the trunk without giving my life to the dark curses, hexes, and enchantments surrounding it. However, I brought a member of the Black family with me, and anyone remotely related to Voldemort, Calliope, Tom, or Remus Lupin would have full access to this trunk.”

“Lupin? Oh, Calliope was his daughter,” Regulus remembered. “That is quite a few people.”

“Ah, but he is arrogant. Sirius, yourself, and your father were dealt with. Anyone else related to you was loyal to him and would never set foot within these four walls without his permission, which he’d never give.”

Regulus shook his head.

“Also, his Death Eaters aren’t privy to the knowledge of the Horcruxes,” Dumbledore reminded the boy. “He trusted two with his Death Eaters without telling them what they were. Those, I trust, he cared little about what happened to, but this. This is his sister. His one weakness. What is in the trunk?”

Regulus glanced at Dumbledore before kneeling in the dirt and reaching into the trunk slowly as if he was worried something would chomp his hand off. While there were enchantments to do that, his blood saved him.

“It’s a…patch. Covered in dried blood,” Regulus whispered, pulling out a patch that clearly had been ripped off some black robes. Dumbledore stepped closer, but not too close as there were still quite a few curses on the patch that would kill him. “It’s a Gryffindor patch. Did he simply settle for a patch since Gryffindor didn’t leave behind a relic other than the sword?”

Dumbledore shook his head, waving his hand above the patch. Angry green sparks rose out of the patch.

“That belonged to Atlanta Lupin,” Dumbledore explained. “He got a hold of it when she time traveled. I found the pair at St Mungo’s in 1943. Atlanta had broken her nose. From the state of her, I’d say she bled all over herself and Voldemort. She used the robes to stanch it, I believe. The robe this patch was upon.”

Dumbledore’s mind whirled.

“Her blood. That’s how he was able to pull her through time using the Diary Horcrux,” Regulus breathed. “And then…he turned this into a Horcrux?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I did bring the fang if you wish to do the honors here.”

Reaching into his robes, he drew out the Basilisk fang Harry Potter had left with him with no thought four years before. He extended it to Regulus, who had yet to destroy a Horcrux. He swallowed, taking the fang from Dumbledore. Before the Horcrux could react in the horrible way they usually did to being stabbed, Regulus stabbed it clear through. It screamed a horrible blood curtly scream, green smoke rising up and curling around the fang, then Regulus’ arm. He let go and dropped the smoking patch and fang to the ground.

“That was horrible. How have you destroyed so many?” Regulus breathed, panting and sweat trickling down his brow.

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. “It was ghastly but necessary.”

Regulus nodded. “Well, that was one dark thing destroyed.” He bent over and retrieved the fang. “Best get on with the rest of it.”

Dumbledore nodded, raising his wand.

* * *

“The troops are getting anxious.”

“I know. But, they’ll just have to wait.”

“One group’s already been found by the Order members,” Hermione reported, pressing her hand to her ear to listen to something being broadcast quietly from the earring she was wearing.

“Who found them?”

“Tonks and Addy.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, they didn’t seem to care. What is up with Tonks? She’s so…vibrate.”

“No idea.”

“Have you spoken to Addy?”

“About what?”

“About her and Regulus? Neither you nor Draco knew if she’d accepted his proposal.”

“Is not the time to talk about that?”

“I’m just curious.”

“I’m not,” Harry grumped. “She turned my hair pink.”

* * *

Undoing all the Dark magic within the hiding spot drained Dumbledore. He felt as if he had gone five rounds with a hippogriff. He sagged as he reached the top of the stairs, almost careering into Regulus.

“Sir?”

“I am fine, Regulus.”

“No, you are not. It’s moving, isn’t it?”

Dumbledore looked up, clicking his tongue. “It is rather hard to keep secrets these days, isn’t it?”

“When you’ve got time travelers who know the secrets already, then yes,” Regulus answered, taking Dumbledore by the elbow. “We’ll get you back to Severus.”

“I believe it will be too late for Severus.”

“It’ll never be too late for Severus, sir.”


	24. Marv's Last Stand

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I fail to own it.**

**Warning: Mild gore from magical battle. (Nothing serious, as if it was, I’d gross myself out and be unable to write it.) “Jar of Hearts” written by Christina Perri.**

* * *

Draco didn’t know why he hadn’t suggested waiting out of the range of the Peruvian Powder before, but he was glad it occurred to him shortly before Nott came out and threw the powder into the air. Hannah Abbot gasped at the sight of the dust hanging in the air and Draco slapped his hand over her mouth. Standing Disillusioned in the hallway only worked if they didn’t move or make noise. Out of the dark cloud emerged Nott, holding the Hand of Glory, holding a candle that lit the way for the Death Eaters. Nott stood near the edge of the cloud and the usual suspects rolled out: Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Fenrir Greyback, Yaxley, Thorfinn Rowle. However, instead of just five Death Eaters, there were extras, tragically Bellatrix Lestrange among them. She gave Nott a scary smile as she pranced by him.

Draco felt his stomach drop out. They weren’t prepared for an all out attack by the Death Eaters. He let his hand drop from Abbot’s mouth as she shook in fear.

“We can do this,” he hissed.

“There are so many.”

“They don’t know how many of us there are,” Draco hissed back. “Ready?”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and, “Yes.”

The last horrible Death Eater came out of the mist by falling on his face. A blond guy Draco didn’t recognize leaped out of the way but didn’t get very far before Lupin appeared out nowhere, stunning one of the Carrow siblings when his spell missed the blond guy. Sirius appeared from out of the black dust wearing some sort of mask to stun a few others and chaos broke out. Draco elbowed Abbot and they threw themselves into battle, along with Neville who swung in from the ceiling and tragically landed on Sirius. The charm making Draco blend into his surroundings was quickly broken by one of the spells Yaxley threw made some of the stone above his head crumble, but Draco didn’t allow this to stall him. He lost track of Nott in the fray but figured the Death Eaters had made sure Nott got away to carry out his dirty deed.

* * *

Tom ran.

He managed to make it up the stairs before Nott was able to cast the spell that prevented anyone without a Dark Mark from getting up the stairs. He chased Nott up the stairs and tackled him to the ground the moment they reached the top of the tower.

“Get off!” Nott screeched, flaying madly trying to get Tom off his back.

Tom grunted as Nott used one of his bony elbows and struck Tom between the ribs. After Nott somehow managed to knee him in the groin, Tom rolled off him. Instantly, Nott cast the Dark Mark and turned to deal with Tom, who scrambled to his feet, grinding his teeth together. Instead of casting a spell, Nott tossed himself at Tom and they both tumbled into the ramparts. Nott, who clearly had never been trained in hand to hand combat, tried numerous times to punch Tom in the face, yet failed each time. Tom was very good at dodging. He’d had a lot of practice as a child.

“Theodore Nott,” scolded a tired, weary-sounding voice. “I believe I’ll have to give you a detention for fighting.”

Nott leaped to his feet, whirling around. Before Tom was able to pick himself up, he found he could not move.

“Expelliarmus!”

Dumbledore’s wand flew through the air. It clattered to the ground landing near Nott’s feet and rolling towards Tom. Tom desperately tried to move, but failed.

Dumbledore had put him in a Body-Bind.

“Who else is here?” Nott demanded.

“A question I might ask you, or are you acting alone?” Dumbledore asked just loud enough to cover the footsteps crunching in the gravel on the roof, the same stuff that was stuck to every inch of skin exposed on Tom’s body.

“Don’t make a sound,” whispered Regulus Black, who was Disillusioned. Tom felt the familiar sensation of someone cracking an egg over his head and knew he’d been Disillusioned as well. Soon the Body-Bind lifted was lifted as well. “Let’s go. Dumbledore will cover us for noise.”

Sure enough, Dumbledore kept Nott distracted. Together they crept down the stairs (Regulus carrying a protesting Tom through the Dark Mark barrier) to be met by a whole lot of people who’d not been there before. Tom used the advantage of being Disillusioned and threw himself into the fray of battle, his blood coursing through his veins.

* * *

“Harry Potter,” hissed a voice.

Harry froze, realizing the Death Eater he’d been dueling was making a quick exit towards the rest of the fight around the corner.

“Hi ya, Marv,” Harry greeted, turning around to find the tall, skeletal thin Voldemort standing behind him, wearing a hideous necklace.

Brilliant. Marv was going for ostentatious accessories these days.

“I seem to find you on your own,” Voldemort said, cocking his head to the side and stroking his wand with his long, pale fingers. “Where is your shadow?”

“Shadowing elsewhere.”

Voldemort let out a snort through his slit-like nose that might have been a laugh.

“I will miss your sass, Harry Potter,” Voldemort remarked, studying Harry carefully as he fingered the butt ugly necklace. “You are different.”

“Different how?” Harry edged.

“You’re no longer one of mine,” Voldemort remarked, slowly making his way closer. “I simply had to know if you were still marked as you once were, but whatever happened last summer seems to have cast you out of my favor. No matter, you will serve your original purpose.”

Harry’s skin crawled. He wanted to inch away, but he knew he had to let Voldemort get close enough if he wanted to get that necklace. Gaudy jewelry was a thing for Voldemort only if he wished to turn it into a Horcrux, though why he was wearing it around his neck was a mystery to Harry. Easier access to the spell if it was on his neck rather in his pocket? Though, maybe he really was going for ugly accessories these days to make up for his face?

Voldemort reached out with his wand and used it to move Harry’s fringe to the side to reveal the lighting bolt scar was in fact there. Harry stared at the ghastly necklace with its pulsating green lit stone.

“Still there,” Voldemort said archly. “Pity.”

“It’s my forehead,” Harry grumbled.

“Marred as it is,” Voldemort lamented.

“Eh, I’m used to it.”

Voldemort straightened up, leering. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist. Before Harry could yelp, complain, or do anything, he found himself standing in the Great Hall. The tables were still in their usual spot, golden plates waiting for students tomorrow morning to have breakfast.

“How did you do that? You can’t Apparate within the walls of Hogwarts,” Harry proclaimed, not even trying to get away from Voldemort in his shock.

“It seems the old man released that barrier when he returned to find the Dark Mark above his school,” Voldemort taunted. “Likely to make it easier for the Aurors to arrive to be slaughtered, their blood running in rivers down the hallways where they learned rudimentary magic under his crooked nose.”

“Ew. Gross. Why do you have to be gross?”

“Now, Harry Potter, I believe we have unfinished business,” Voldemort changed the subject, dropping Harry’s wrist and turning away with a flourish. “Tonight, one of mine will kill Albus Dumbledore, then I kill you once and for all. Though, I will not murder you until I am brought Dumbledore’s wand. I thought it fitting the man who kept you alive for so many years…well, it is fitting his wand will be your end and my new beginning.”

Harry scowled, watching the unsightly necklace swing as Voldemort swirled around with his arms out.

“Now, while we wait for the wand to be brought to me, let me tell you a tale. The tale of how I will never die,” Voldemort hissed into Harry’s ear, somehow getting behind Harry in a blink of an eye and not making a peep. “No one knows how far I’ve gone— well, no one alive. Calliope knew, for she accidentally discovered my plans. She told me I’d fail, but I’ve not.”

Harry fought hard not to laugh as Voldemort moved to stand in front of Harry. Harry was staring at the last Horcrux, he as sure of it. And it wasn’t even one yet. Harry’s death was in need to make it a Horcrux and Harry had no plan on dying. All he had to do now was kill Voldemort, as he was sure Dumbledore finished off the final hidden Horcrux tonight when he’d left the school. 

* * *

Draco hurled a curse at Yaxley, who fell to the ground unconscious. He moved onto his next victim only to find there were no more Death Eaters to take out.

They’d managed to get them all. No, wait, there were a few missing.

“Bellatrix and Greyback are upstairs,” Lupin reported, slightly winded and leaning against a wall. He pushed his greying hair out of his face.

“This isn’t all of them. There were twice as many as we figured,” Sirius grumbled, motioning around looking a little sullen. He’d lost his mask somewhere in the fray but didn’t seemed bothered he’d lost a priceless magical artifact. “BILLY! You binding them up?”

“YES! AND DON’T CALL ME BILLY!” came the hollered reply from the eldest Weasley.

“Got another one!” came another familiar Weasley voice. Around the corner came one of the twins, floating a Death Eater and followed by his twin. “Besides the storybook crazy witch and rabid wolf-man, I think we’ve got everyone.”

“Headcount,” Tom called, eyeing the Hogwarts students who’d found them in the trophy room where they’d all somehow wound up.

“Draco.”

“Hannah!”

“Smith.”

“Neville.”

“Ginny.”

“Dean.”

“Seamus.”

“Blaise and Ronald, who can’t talk because they sealed his mouth.”

Weasley waved, looking furious while the twins both snickered. The eldest Weasley sighed.

“Padma.”

“Luna Lovegood.”

“Levander.”

“Parvarti.”

“Colin and Dennis!”

“Ohmygod,” Addy gasped, spinning around. “Where is Harry?”

“Where’s Hermione?”

Tom sucked in a sharp breath, whipping out the Maurader’s Map. Everyone else who had yet been called, spun around looking for Harry. Draco hurried over and looked over Tom’s shoulder. There were a bunch of Order members, Hermione, and the two Slytherin girls outside battling Death Eaters who’d somehow gotten in through the front gates. There was also a group battling Death Eaters on the first floor near the stairs. Judging by the unmovable state of most of the Death Eaters’ dots, that battle was over.

“Everyone else is accounted for except Harry,” Sirius said, turning away from the window. He began to dig around in his pocket.

“Snape, Dumbledore, and Nott are still active on the tower. That’s where Bellatrix and Fernier have returned,” Draco reminded them, eyes still scanning for Harry’s dot.

“So, where is Harry?” Addy asked again.

“Cornered by Voldemort in the Great Hall. Let’s go. It’ll be seven against one,” Tom proclaimed, folding up the Marauder’s Map. “The other Aurors and Ministry officials have arrived on the grounds. They’ll aid the other two battles going on.”

“Seven?” Neville asked. “There are more than seven than us here.”

“And we’re not going to just stand here, do don’t even suggest that!” Ginny shouted.

Shouts broke out till Sirius whistled an ear piercing whistle.

“Quite, the lot of you. You’ve done your duty. But,” Sirius paused and glanced at Tom and Draco. Tom nodded. “We’ve got a plan. We can’t tell you more, but you have to stay here and watch these guys till the Ministry officials arrive. You too, Dora. We’ve got a plan and there needs to be seven.”

Tonks looked furious but quickly realized who the seven would be.

“Oh,” she breathed, lowering her wand.

Draco noticed Tonks look fleetingly at Lupin before turning back to making sure the Death Eaters they caught stayed contained. Everyone else looked close to mutinous till one of the Death Eaters woke and put up a fuss. Lupin nodded and indicated they ought to leave. Lupin, Addy, Regulus, Sirius, Tom, and Draco slipped away.

Draco pressed a message into his coin for Hermione and squared his shoulders.

“This kind of feels like a death march,” Addy whispered.

“It is. Just not for any of us,” Sirius said.

“It’s quite symbolic, really,” Lupin mildly offered. “In the first timeline, none of us were around for the final showdown between Harry and Voldemort.”

“True. You were dead,” Addy flatly stated. “Sirius was eaten by a curtain, Regulus was rotting in a lake filled with dead people, and Draco and I were time traveling. Oh, and Tom didn’t exist. And what makes this even better, Voldemort thinks some of us are dead. I mean, he knows a Regulus is alive, but not his former minion and I looked way different, so I doubt he put that together.”

“Dead people totally freak him out,” Draco offered.

“I know,” Addy said, getting a rather evil look on her face. She waved her wand and she suddenly looked about twelve.

* * *

Voldemort would not shut up. He lamented about how it took so much of his time to plot ways to kill Harry, then he wouldn’t die. Harry managed not to say that if he just got on with it and shut up Harry might be dead.

“It was really brilliant, I might say. Then again, everything I do is brilliant,” Voldemort blabbered, fingering his wand. He glanced over Harry’s head at the door looking impatient. He pressed his lips together and appeared as if for a moment as if he was going to stomp his foot in frustration.

He did not do this, mostly because someone greeted a little too cheerily behind him, “Hi-ho! It’s Atlanta Black!”

Harry jumped, whirling around. This was stupid, as it put Voldemort at his back, but he was too startled to realize this till it was too late.

“You know, I almost said I was Kermit the Frog,” Addy laughed, stepping out of the shadow she was hiding in. She was wearing the biggest smile Harry had ever seen. She looked a little unhinged and twelve— if twelve-year-olds were so damn tall. Her hair was curling wildly and there was a gash on her cheek that was covered in dry blood, but she was a spitting image for Atlanta Black when she started Hogwarts, save the height. “Not that any of y’all have any clue who Kermit the Frog is, tragic on way too many levels. Kermit is awesome.”

“I know who Kermit the Frog is!” Sirius shouted from the other side of Voldemort, making the man whirl around with his wand out. There was no one there, just two long tables. Sirius was likely somehow hiding under the Slytherin tables, you know, for DRAMA.

“Show yourself!” Voldemort demanded, shooting a spell at the Slytherin table, making it explode down the middle with a loud crack.

“Hey! That worked! Ouch.”

Sirius did not appear, but scurrying feet went the opposite direction from Voldemort and behind Harry.

Addy sighed, looking up at the ceiling and dropping her wand to her side.

“Seriously, Sirius?!”

“I am Sirius, seriously,” Sirius cheekily replied from another corner of the Great Hall.

“You’ve ruined my plan!” Addy exclaimed, still looking at the ceiling. “I had this great plan and all. Seriously.”

Voldemort whirled around and shot out a spell. Harry tossed up a shield and it bounced off, heading back towards Voldemort, who did the freaky thing where he vanished in a plume of black smoke and reappeared behind Addy. He grabbed her by her hair, which promptly vanished and she looked once again herself. She leered at him and he looked as if he’d seen an actual ghost.

“Who are you?”

“I told you.”

“NO,” Voldemort roared, grabbing her by her shorter hair and shaking.

Harry was pretty sure Voldemort would have ripped Addy’s head off her body by her hair (or at least pulled all her hair out), if not for Regulus shooting a spell at Voldemort that made him yelp and drop Addy as if she was on fire. Voldemort whirled in the direction of the spell caster and Harry wished he could see Voldemort’s face when he finally saw Regulus Black because there was something utterly different about him. He didn’t really look much like the Regulus Harry knew, but rather a bored pureblood. His hair was longer and he was wearing an expression Nott often wore, only it looked like it belonged on Regulus’ face rather than forced upon it like Nott’s expression often looked.

“You’re dead,” Voldemort breathed.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Regulus drawled. “Magical things like tapestries can lie.”

Addy got to her feet and moved a little right, nodding. Something rolled across the stone floor. Addy shot it with her wand and a ghostly form rose, heading straight for Voldemort. Another glass ball rolled and Harry heard the song that always played when he battled Voldemort, the same one he’d taught all the Hogwarts Protectors.

Instead of freezing like he usually did when he heard the melody, Voldemort roared and attacked the nearest person: Addy.

Well, good thing Voldemort was so keen to talk Harry’s ear off and they’d not used the badges Tom had made to play the song. It clearly didn’t have the same effect it usually did on him tonight.

Addy dodged his Killing Curse and shouted, “Who do you think you are? Running around leaving scars!”

Harry blinked at the force of magic behind her words. Voldemort stumbled backward, staring at Addy as if he really was starting to believe she was who she said. Addy got to her feet, pulling up the tank top she wore to reveal an ugly scar across her middle. She wore a challenging look while Voldemort blinked owlishly at her.

Regulus inched closer to her, rolling his sleeve up to show the ugly, scarred Dark Mark on his arm (looked like he’d tried to cut it off at one point). Harry darted over and moved his fringe to the side to show off his own scar. There was noise of another glass ball and on Regulus’ other side, a ghostly figure of Atlanta Lupin (or Calliope Riddle) formed, rolling the sleeve back of her own left sleeve to reveal the ugly scar teenage Voldemort had carved into her pale skin.

“Collecting your jar of souls,” Addy sang, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “Tearing yourself apart. You’re gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your heart.”

Voldemort blinked stupidly. Then took a huge step back looking frightened as several more ghostly figures appeared, bearing their number seven scars for Voldemort to see.

While Voldemort was too busy freaking out by the ghostly appertains, the group of seven closed in around Voldemort, all pointing their wands at the snake man. Voldemort realized before any of them could shoot off spells what was going on and vanished in a swirl of dark robes and appeared behind Sirius and attempted to cut him down. Sirius dodged, shooting a blue jet of light. Voldemort whirled around and shot another spell out and glass shattered across the floor as the song stopped. Addy laughed, smashing her hand into her chest where she wore her own badge. The song started again. Voldemort roared and Regulus punched the guy in the mouth.

The battle as on.

* * *

Severus was furious.

And not because he’d killed Albus Dumbledore. No, that had to be done and was requested of him long ago. He’d agreed.

No, he was furious because Nott had disarmed the old coot. Because Harry Potter had told him to distract Dumbledore and for some unknown reason, disarming the old coot was Nott’s clever idea.

Nott was the master of the Elder Wand unknowingly. While Potter had told the Nott boy something about tonight, he had not mentioned the fact the Hallows were real (he might not know this, but Severus assumed Riddle had figured it out, thus Potter would know), nor the real reason Voldemort was within the walls of this school tonight were to get the Elder Wand and use it to make Harry a Horcrux. (Not that Voldemort knew Severus knew what he was going to do with the Elder Wand and that ugly necklace with its fake blood protection.)

Severus glared at the wand in his hand as he dragged Nott down the stairs.

“I thought it was a good idea,” Nott said for the millionth time.

After Dumbledore had fallen, Bellatrix and her pet wolf had buggered off, leaving Severus alone with a Nott on the verge of a mental breakdown who would not shut up. (Another thing Potter had told him to do, which Nott was taking seriously judging by the words that kept pouring out of his mouth even though Severus had glared at the boy several times.)

Severus was grimly greeted by Tonks, who was locked in battle with Bellatrix. Severus sped up as Bellatrix wailed as one of Tonk’s stunners hit her shoulder. Someone else was shooting off spells, but he didn’t have time to figure it out as Nott tripped over his own feet (still spewing pointless words).

“Shut up,” Severus snapped. He noticed Longbottom and the Weasley girl guarding some heavily bound Death Eaters and paused. “Where are they?”

Longbottom blinked at him with large, round eyes. “Great Hall. From the vibrations in the floor, there’s an awfully big fight going on.”

Sure enough, the floor rocked. The Weasley girl cursed darkly.

“Thank you,” Severus snapped. “Please help Auror Tonks with Bellatrix. She will not go down quietly. Where is the werewolf who is not Lupin?”

The Weasley girl sprinted off in the direction of the fight while Severus made sure the Death Eaters tied up would remain so while he waited for Longbottom to answer.

“Bill Weasley got him the moment he got down the stairs. Bellatrix used him as a shield. Bill’s tying him up away from the others to be shipped…where ever they put dangerous werewolves.”

Severus nodded. He dragged Nott behind him as he headed for the Great Hall. Nott began to recite Golpalott's Third Law in full, annotations and all.

* * *

Harry was getting tired. While it started out seven against one, Voldemort kept doing that annoying moving thing. He also didn’t seem to tire. He was like that Duracell Bunny, just kept going and going. Sirius was down for the count with some sort of curse that cut a good portion of his arm off, Lupin was unconscious on the floor at Sirius’ feet (he’d managed to stop the bleeding from the missing chunk of arm before Voldemort had hit him with something black and ugly), and Regulus was leaning against the wall still shooting off curses (Harry wasn’t sure how he was standing due to the fact his leg was broken in the grossest way possible). Tom and Draco were out cold after Voldemort had blown the Hufflepuff table to smithereens, burying both boys. Addy was under the mess with them, but was conscious and still singing at the top of her lungs the song even though the badges were a total bust. Voldemort blasted Tom’s off earlier after he’d recovered from being punched in the mouth, Draco’s stopped working after the table fell on his head, and Harry’s had been hit by a stray spell from Lupin when Regulus once again punched Voldemort in the face. (It was a testament to how distracting they were that Regulus was able to punch the guy in the face when he could do that stupid moving in smoke thing.)

Harry was kind of the only one standing.

Regulus fell to the floor as the leg gave out.

Okay, now Harry was the last one standing.

Voldemort turned his attention to Harry now that he didn’t have to battle with Regulus, who looked to be unconscious as his chest rose and fell shallowly and blood seeped out of his broken leg.

Ugh. Gross. And likely very painful.

“It is now only you and me, Harry Potter,” Voldemort hissed, smiling a lipless smile that was creepy beyond description. “And you will now die!”

Harry quirked and eyebrow, pulling shoulders back as he raised his wand to defend himself and the words on his lips to call his secret weapon.

“I thought you were waiting for this?”

Harry jerked at the sound of Snape’s voice from what was left of the door to the Great Hall. Snape took in the destruction of the Great Hall with a look of distaste while holding up a white, knotted wand in one hand and Nott in the other. Snape wiped his face of any emotion as he met Voldemort’s gaze, but his eyes were full of loathing. Nott was reciting something, a blank look on his face while his mouth moved a hundred miles an hour. Harry glanced at Voldemort, wondering if he realized Snape was about to do something unexpected. Harry might not need to call on his secret weapon: Medusa.

(He’d not told anyone he’d planned to use Medusa. He’d spoken to her about it. She was more than willing to eat the man who’d made her ruin the image of Salazar Slytherin. Or just bite him. She didn’t really want to eat him. Evidently humans don’t taste good.)

“Severus,” the Snake Face simpered, doing what might have been what he thought was smiling. “You’ve brought it.”

Snape nodded curtly as he dropped Nott, who stumbled and shut up.

Voldemort raised his wand to summoned the white wand.

He didn’t get a chance.

Snape’s face blazed with anger and loathing as he shouted the incantation and shot a green spell out of his wand. Harry watched the green jet of light travel across the Great Hall to Voldemort, who stood where the Slytherin table was usually located. The light hit Voldemort in the dead center of his forehead. Voldemort looked completely shocked and betrayed as he fell backwards and landed with a dull thud on the floor.

“Dude,” Addy breathed, suddenly appearing out of a pile of wood. “You are pissed.”

Snape snapped his eyes to where Addy was still half buried in former table. With a wave of his wand and a silent spell, the rubble vanished.

“Thanks,” Addy brightly said, gingerly moving her legs to make sure they worked.

Snape swept forward and checked on Tom and Draco, dragging a white faced Nott behind him for some reason. With another wave of his wand, he levitated the two boys and headed over to Lupin. Sirius gave Snape a strange look, but said nothing as he added Lupin to his floating body collection. Turning, he levitated Regulus to him, then barked at Sirius to follow if he was able.

“I’ll help!” Addy offered, getting to her feet and brushing off dust from herself. “Come on. Off to Poppy we go!”

“Why are you so cheery?” Sirius asked, getting to his feet, trying not to be hindered by the dead weight of a useless arm (as now that Harry could see the injury fully, was even worse than he imagined as Sirius’ arm was half cut off, not simply missing). “Harry?”

“He’s dead,” Harry dumbly said, pointing at Voldemort. “Like deader than a door nail and no one is…”

“Celebrating joyously?” Addy offered.

“Well, yeah. I kind of thought…”

“Fireworks out go off?” Sirius offered.

Harry scowled. “No. I thought…”

“You’d feel lighter?”

Harry sharply turned around to find a white-faced Nott standing behind him, clutching himself around the middle. Snape had let him go when he’d stormed out with his body collection.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said. “I don’t feel any different.”

Nott stared at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, taking a closer look at Nott, who looked ten times worst than he had the last time Harry had seen him.

“No.”

“Bring him. Poppy can give him something. He’s likely in shock,” Sirius shouted as Addy dragged him off towards where Snape had vanished, dripping blood after them.

Harry wished Sirius would be more concerned with the amount of blood he was losing. Then again, Blood Replenishing potion kind of solved blood loss, so that was likely why Sirius wasn’t too concerned his arm was dangeling by a piece of skin and a little bone and bleeding all over the place again now that he was moving.

“He killed Dumbledore,” Nott whispered. “I couldn’t do it, so he did it. He asked him to do it. He begged. Or he begged to live.”

“No, likely to die. He was already dying,” Harry said gently, trying to get Nott to walk with him. Nott’s feet didn’t seem to be working any longer now that Snape was dragging him around like a dog who didn’t really wish to go for a walk.

Harry left Nott where he was swaying back and forth. He picked his way across the hall to where Voldemort was staring dead-eyed at the starry night sky. After kicking the snake-faced body to make sure he was indeed dead, Harry squatted down and stared at the ugly necklace. Harry wasn’t sure if he should touch it and it was kind of creepy with its green pulsing light. He looked over his shoulder at Nott and added, “He also knew the task Moldy had given you and asked Snape to do it for you, so you’d not have to commit murder at the age of sixteen. Or are you seventeen?”

“Sixteen,” Nott breathed. “Next week, I’ll be seventeen.”

“Well, there you go. Can I have your jumper? I don’t want to touch this.”

Nott laughed a wobbly laugh as his feet decided he could move again. He almost toppled over but managed to trip his way over to Harry and take his jumper off at the same time. He didn’t say anything as Harry used a cutting spell to get the necklace off Voldemort and wrapped the object up without directly touching it.

“What are you going to do with it?” Nott asked as Harry stood.

“Give it to my aunt,” Harry decided.

Nott gave off another wobbly laugh and turned to trip his way back towards the exit. Harry followed after him to make sure Nott made it to the Hospital Wing.

The Hospital Wing was overrun with people injured during the battle. Harry guided Nott through the various people and found him a bed. Madam Pomfrey shot a spell that cracked and boomed, making everyone fall silent.

“If you are not injured gravely, stand in the hallway. Someone from St Mungo’s will be along shortly to tend you,” she proclaimed as the fire flared from her office and the people from St Mungo’s showed up. Harry guided Nott back out into the hallway and stood with the people who weren’t gravely injured, which was most of the people. It seemed the noise of their battled had called to arms the whole school. He sat Nott on the floor.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because I don’t think you’ll be able to tell them what’s wrong with you.”

“I will too,” Nott sneered. “Nothing.”

“I think he’s in shock,” Harry said when the person in lime green robes appeared before them.

The person nodded, pulled out a vial and rattled off the directions. Harry poured the contents down Nott’s throat and steered him off. He spotted Blaise (who had a few bruises blooming on his face) and made a beeline towards him.

“Harry?” Blaise asked upon seeing him with Nott.

“Here. Take care of him. He’s had a Calming Drought for the shock,” Harry explained.

“What happened,” Blaise asked, taking custody of Nott, who open and closed his eyes slowly.

“Well, a lot. Voldemort’s dead.”

“So’s Dumbledore,” Nott offered, blinking owlishly at Blaise. “Snape killed both of them. I don’t know whose side he’s on.”

Blaise stared at Nott, then looked at Harry, who shrugged. “It’s true, though Dumbledore was already dying from a curse on his hand. Remember?”

Harry wiggled his right hand. Blaise nodded slowly.

“So, we won?”

Harry nodded.

Whispers began in the corridor. Figuring his job was done, Harry hightailed it away before anyone caught up with him to ask him more questions hoping to find his aunt or some adult to take the ugly necklace.


	25. The End

**Disclaimer: One more time, if you know it, I do not own it. “Feeling Good” was written by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse.**

_A/N: And you’ve made it. The end. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I’ve been working on this series for over four years. It’s been rewarding, frustrating, and fascinating. Here. Have one last cookie. *Hands you cookie*_

_P.S. Four years ago today (20 Dec 2016) per my Facebook feed, I finished writing Regrets. Seemed a fitting day to end the whole shebang._

* * *

Harry found his aunt standing next to Voldemort’s body, which had been moved to the room right off the Great Hall where Harry had been sent after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Harry paused in the doorway, wondering what was going through her mind as her face was completely blank.

“I knew he was only a man, but…it’s still hard to wrap my mind around the fact he is gone for good.”

“He doesn’t look much like a man,” Harry pointed out, stepping into the room. “Here. He was wearing this. I don’t know what it is, but if he was wearing it into battle, he likely thought it was important and it’s likely covered in dark magic.”

Harry held out the jumper lump to Aunt Narcissa. She moved her cool blue eyes to the lump and started laughing. Harry frowned, wondering if the fact Voldemort had died was making her a little loopy.

“It’s mostly harmless. But, I’ll take it back to the Ministry to make sure before I return it to the Black vault.”

She moved from where she was standing next to the body and took the jumper lump, shirking it and putting in the pocket of her cloak.

“What is it?”

“A necklace my Uncle Orion bought off someone in Wales in hopes of fooling Voldemort, which he succeeded in doing since Voldemort was under the impression it was Merlin’s.”

“It’s not?”

“No. It’s only a necklace. Just like he was only a man. Do you happen to know where Draco is?”

“He was knocked out during the battle. He’s still in the Hospital Wing.”

“Let us go see him.”

Aunt Narcissa gripped Harry’s shoulder and led him out into the Great Hall, where a few professors were cleaning away the rubble.

* * *

Draco woke up in the Hospital Wing to an unfamiliar Healer standing over him. Upon finding out he was okay and could leave, Draco slid off the bed and hurried out of the Hospital Wing. Outside was chaos, as there were hoards of people wanting news. He spotted Harry and his mother standing with a group of Aurors. Narcissa looked up sharply as he stepped into the hallway. She looked relieved to see him standing and gave him a small smile before she went back to arguing with an Auror. Harry looked as if he wished he were dead, likely due to the students gathering around him peppering him with questions. It seemed during the time Draco was unconscious, the entire world had woken and gathered outside the Hospital Wing.

“WILL STUDENTS NOT HURT PLEASE MOVE TO THE GREAT HALL! I WILL ADDRESS YOU ALL THERE!” McGonagall’s voice bellowed above the din.

Draco wasn’t sure what had happened, nor could he find Hermione, so he moved with the crowds into the Great Hall. Due to the fact the professors weren’t done completing the tables, everyone stood around, trading rumors. Draco hovered near the back of the room, eyes looking for Hermione. McGonagall stood up on the raised platform where the Head Table sat and sternly looked at everyone. Silence fell immediately as everyone could see the body behind her flanked by awed looking Aurors. She was soon flanked by Professor Flitwick and Sprout. She studied the silent group before her as she raised her chin.

“Voldemort is dead.”

It was silent till someone cheered, followed by most of the people filling the hall.

“So is Professor Dumbledore.”

Draco had no idea how she’d managed to get her voice heard above the celebration, but all noise ceased immediately. McGongall swallowed visibly and pressed her lips together.

“He suffered for a long time from a cruse he caught from battling Voldemort last summer, and tonight he found peace. Let us raise a cup to him.”

Goblets of water appeared before everyone and they all raised their cups to Dumbledore. Once completed, they stood in silence once more, waiting for McGonagall to explain more.

“I believe Professor Dumbledore would wish us to celebrate his death, as well as the defeat of Voldemort.”

Several people near Draco flinched at the name this time.

“So, that is what we will do before I will request you return to bed,” McGonagall said, pulling her wand from her sleeve, followed by every professor in the room. She instructed everyone to back up along the walls. Within a two minutes, four new House tables were sitting on the floor waiting to be filled. Everyone sat down, no one paying attention to which House table they sat at. Draco sat down in a spot near the door at the Hufflepuff table. McGonagall clapped and food appeared, making Draco’s stomach lurch. He had to get out of here. He stood up and quickly exited, unnoticed by anyone. He started up the stairs when he heard voices coming from outside the front door. He crept closer and heard Tom arguing with someone.

“You cannot arrest him! He ended Voldemort!”

“Mr Riddle,” said a deep, rumbling voice.

“Mr Riddle, I do not need you to defend me,” Snape snapped.

“You cannot arrest him!” Tom bellowed with such force Draco stumbled backward a bit when the magic hit him. “You will discover that Dumbledore suffered from a Dark curse, one that would kill him shortly and horribly. Professor Snape did him a service tonight. One he requested!”

“Son, I am sure we will figure that out in our investigation.”

Draco could picture Tom’s face and snickered.

“I am not your son,” Tom snapped.

“Mr Riddle, please return inside. I will pay for my crimes.”

“But, it wasn’t a crime!”

“Yes, Mr Riddle, it was.”

Tom let out a frustrated noise.

“Mr Riddle, if what you say is true, Professor Snape will return for the next school year, I am sure.”

“I will not,” Snape proclaimed.

“Of course not. You killed Voldemort,” Tom pointed out. “You’re the hero of this story.”

Tom sounded very pleased with this fact.

Draco could guess Snape was less than pleased.

Draco slowly backed away and headed for the stairs. He paused as he reached the top of the stairs and gazed out over the Entrance Hall. His mother was standing in the middle of the corridor that led to the Hospital Wing dealing with a gaggle of reporters. Harry wasn’t with her.

Snape had killed Voldemort and Dumbledore. He didn’t know where his two best friends were, but shaking his head in wonder, Draco knew where he had to go. He had to go to where it’d all started.

* * *

“Don’t do that again.”

“What? Defend you?”

“Yes. Don’t do it again.”

“Sirius, you know I will. You were going to bleed to death.”

“You looked like you were dead.”

“I don’t feel dead.”

“No. Because you’re not dead thanks to Harry and his awesome shield spell that I’d never heard of before. That kid sure knows his shields.”

Remus hummed.

“I took a Blood Replenishing potion and Poppy patched me up, so stop looking at me like that.”

“Fine. Voldemort?”

“Dead.”

“How is Harry?”

“No idea. He’s not here,” Sirius pointed out. “He was walking and unharmed when Addy and I left him and Nott in the Great Hall after the fact.”

Remus nodded. “Tom? Draco? Your brother?”

“Tom and Draco both were thumped on the head pretty good when the table blew up and buried them,” Sirius reported. “St Mungo Healers did them and told them to scram, so they did. My brother broke his leg in several places and is missing a few bones. He’s over there regrowing them.”

Remus turned his head and noticed Addy and Regulus curled around one another fast asleep. Under the covers, Remus could see the bones of Regulus’ leg regrowing and quickly looked away.

“Shouldn’t you be resting and regrowing bones.”

Sirius didn’t answer, just looked mulish.

“How late is it?” Remus asked, sitting up. His head still felt full of cotton, but other than that he felt better than ever.

“It’s almost dawn. They didn’t get to you till last,” Sirius pouted, glaring in the direction of the group of Healers who were fussing over Bill Weasley, who was surrounded by his family, who all looked bleak.

“What happened to Bill?”

“Greyback. He tried to get away when Bill was securing him away from everyone else. Messed his face up pretty bad before the Aurors arrived got to him and, well, disabled Greyback for good,” Sirius whispered. “The Weasleys want to speak to you when you feel up to it. It’s pretty bad. He’ll live, but…”

“He’ll scar,” Remus filled in, feeling remorse and pain at the thought of someone so young and vibrate having to deal with wolfish qualities for the rest of his life as well as facial scars. Those were never easy to deal with.

“Addy filled them in on some stuff he could expect, but you’re more of an expert than she is.”

“He wasn’t turned, so he’ll be more like Addy than me.”

Sirius shrugged, running a hand through his hair. It was the hand on the arm that had, the last time Remus had seen it been missing most of the upper portion, so Sirius winced. 

“Did we lose anyone?”

Remus’ eyes darted around the Hospital Wing but didn’t see the one person he was really looking for.

“Other than Dumbledore and Voldemort, Greyback, and one stray Death Eater who was hit by his own Killing Curse, no one died. A few maimed, my horrible cousin among them— Tonks sure knows her curses. Bellatrix looked…well, horrible when they wheeled her out to go back to Azkaban. But only three people are dead, Remus. Three people.”

Remus reached out and squeezed Sirius’ hand.

“Is Harry really okay? Shouldn’t you find him?”

“He’s with his friends,” Sirius assured. “And soon Narcissa will be freed from her duties so, let them be on their own before they are smothered.”

“I’m amazed she hasn’t smothered them already.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sirius admitted. “She showed up shortly after the battle was over and has been dealing with the press that has gotten in since Dumbledore lowered most of the school’s defenses to allow the Auror’s in.”

Remus nodded. “You should sleep.”

“No one is sleeping,” Sirius pointed out.

“Your brother and Addy are.”

“Besides them.”

“That person over there is asleep.”

Sirius gave Remus a dark look. Remus allowed a small smile to paint his face as he looked at his old friend.

“Dora was in here earlier,” Sirius said, trying to sound casual. “She left because she had to do her job and round up the Death Eaters who didn’t show up tonight, but she wanted you to know she was here and she’d check on you later. She came out of her battle with my cousin Bellatrix with only, oddly, a cut along her cheek and several missing fingernails.”

Remus shuddered. “Really? She’s fine?”

“Yeah. She said if you didn’t believe me to send her a Patronus. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Sirius smiled a winning smile that was brittle around the edges. Neither had spoken more than a few words since Remus began seeing Dora seriously.

“Sirius…”

“No. She loves you, Moony. She really does.”

Remus frowned and grabbed Sirius’ hand.

“What about you?”

Sirius smiled wistfully at him. “I’ll be fine. After all, this settles, maybe I’ll go out and find someone. Likely a Muggle. I can’t stand most wizards anymore.”

Sirius untangled their hands and strode out of the Hospital Wing. Remus watched him go, feeling a little hollow. He swallowed before leaning back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling.

* * *

“What are Earth did you say to Lupin all those years ago?”

Sirius startled, finding Severus standing behind him, studying him with dark, tired eyes. But, there was something different about the other man, as if a weight was gone and he was free.

“You know, I’ve no idea,” Sirius darkly reminded the other man. “I was drunk.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

The two men fell into silence, the only noises coming from the Great Hall where the masses were celebrating. Sirius didn’t feel much like celebrating. He glanced at his bare arm, the one he’d lost a good portion an hour before hand and put his hand over the bandage where he could feel the new skin growing and knitting together over the muscle Poppy had hurried mended and regrown in record time.

“You do realize you gave him permission to court your cousin,” Severus said. “You’ve not spoken to him as a friend since he told you he was seeing her.”

“How the hell did you hear that?”

“I have super hearing.”

“You do not.”

“I was outside the door and put an eavesdropping spell on you. He’ll be back.”

“No. He won’t. I can’t give him what he wants.”

“And that is?”

“Kids.”

“You two could adopt.”

Sirius shook his head. “No. He’s had a taste of it with Atlanta. He loves being a father. He wants his own. I can see it in his eyes all the time.”

“Pay a woman to carry his child.”

“No,” Sirius shook his head. “I’ve seen a photo of Siria Black.”

“And?”

“She looks like me if I’d been a girl,” Sirius admitted. “I’m sure that was the only reason he hooked up with her.”

“Tonks doesn’t look like you. Unless she wants to.”

“I don’t think that matters anymore,” Sirius offered. “He’s fallen out of love with me.”

“He protected you.”

“He’s my friend. He will always be my friend, even if I treat him like shite.”

Severus sighed deeply. Sirius grinned a little bitterly.

“It’s done,” Sirius said with finality. “If you love him, set him free.”

Severus gave him a dark look, which made Sirius laugh and ask, “So, what’d you do with Tom?”

“He’s still outside having it out with Kingsley, the new Head Auror.”

“Yeah, I resigned this morning. What are they going to do?”

“If Tom gets his way? Nothing.”

“And if Tom fails?”

“I would assume they’d send me to Azkaban. The wizarding world doesn’t exactly recognize…”

Sirius nodded his understanding.

“So, if you don’t end up in jail,” Sirius shuddered, “what will you do?”

Severus turned his dark gaze to Sirius and smirked. Sirius felt strangely giddy.

“You’ve just defeated Voldemort, what are you going to do next?”

“I think I’ll go to Disney World.”

Sirius’s jaw dropped. “Disney World? You know that’s in the United States, right? It’s hot. Sunny. Filled with children.”

“True. But, I’ve wanted to say that since I did it,” Severus admitted. “I’m master-less for the first time since I was seventeen. It is freeing and restricting at the same time.”

“You’re going to be more famous than Harry, you do realize this, right?”

“Correct, hence why I actually plan vanish and not go to Disney World.”

Sirius felt his heart drop. “Vanish?”

“Yes. I wish to be a hermit.”

“You don’t like being alone.”

Severus studied Sirius for a beat before saying, “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Sirius studied the other man’s face for a solid minute before asking, “So, just run away with you? Join you in being a hermit? Isn’t the point of being a hermit to be alone in a cave or something?”

Severus shook his head, lifting his eyes skyward. “What did you want to do before you wished to be an Auror?”

“Get away from my parents?”

“When you were a child before you figured out your lot in life, what did you wish to be? I wanted to be a firefighter before I knew about the wizarding world.”

“You didn’t always know?”

Severus shook his head.

“Oh. Well, I always knew and I knew I didn’t really have a choice in the matter of what I’d do once I graduated Hogwarts,” Sirius admitted.

“You never dreamed outside the box?”

“Not until I arrived at Hogwarts,” Sirius admitted. “I was conditioned from the moment I can remember to be the Head of the Black Family. I spent most of my childhood training to take on these duties once my father was unable. It did not even occur to me that there was more out there until Bellatrix went to Hogwarts. She’s the oldest of our generation, so she was the first to go. Mother allowed me to go along with her to the station, so I could see what it was like.”

“That was the first time you saw Muggles, wasn’t it?”

Sirius nodded, smiling bursting across his face. “They were fascinating.”

Severus gave him an odd look.

“I wanted to be a Muggle.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “You want to be a Muggle.”

“Well, no, but as a kid I did.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’m beat. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Do you want to go to the Great Hall and celebrate?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stand here till the sun rises?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I am not supposed to leave.”

Sirius pressed his lips together then smiled. He took a step closer to Severus. “Tom’s going to get you off for aiding Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort. He might not be a trained barrister, but I have a feeling he studied law in his free time.”

Severus narrowed his eyes.

“Just think about it, you simply vanish.”

“And you?”

“Well, I can’t simply vanish. I’m Sirius Black. And I’ve got a family.”

“Harry’s going to be seventeen this July.”

“Just because he’s an adult doesn’t mean he’ll know how to adult.”

Severus gave him an unfathomable look and Sirius full out smiled. He grabbed Severus by the wrist and tugged him. Severus began walking and Sirius dropped his wrist.

“You know how to adult?” was dryly asked.

“With the worst of them,” Sirius agreed. “If we leave now while everyone is distracted and Tom’s talking at Kingsley— no one’s placed you under arrest, have they?”

“No.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Severus looked as if he was going to argue, but instead followed Sirius out the front doors, straight passed Tom and Kingsley arguing (and Sirius was sure Tom had studied law in his spare time by the way he was arguing points that seemed to be going over Kingsley's head). The pair walked until they were out of the gates.

“Where are we going?” Severus asked.

“No idea. Got anywhere?”

“Yes. Hold onto my arm. I’ve not been there in a while,” Severus said, extending his arm.

Sirius looked at it for a moment, before grabbing on as if he life depended on it.

* * *

Draco stared out the window, eyes slowly scanning the grounds of Hogwarts that lay before him. He’d never in his life gazed out this particular window, as in either timeline he never lingered in this particular hallway. He actively avoided.

“Here you are.”

Draco tore his eyes away from the darkened sky and grounds to find Addy walking towards him, her hair wild and looking a bit like a helmet. He blinked a few times, realizing how similar she was dressed to the last time she’d likely walked down this corridor, only this time she was a lot cleaner and there was no blood spattered on her face. She appeared as if she’d just woken up if the crease on her cheeks was anything to go by.

“Here I am.”

Addy looked around, quirking an eyebrow at him as she took in where exactly he was standing.

“You’ve returned to the scene of the crime,” she observed, coming to stand next to him.

Draco didn’t reply, simply went back to gazing at the horizon. The sun would rise soon.

“It’s always darkest before dawn,” Addy quietly said.

“Oh, really?” Draco challenged. “I always thought it was simply dark at night till the sky began to lighten.”

Addy let out an irritated huff. “When that sun rises, it’ll be the dawn of a new day, a new life, a new world.”

Silence fell between the two to allow the words to sink in.

“From here on out, everything is new, everything is unwritten.”

Draco blinked as the sky began to change color to signal sunrise.

“Dark times are over, my friend.”

“It’s always darkest before dawn,” Draco muttered as Addy clapped him on the back.

He listened to her retreating footsteps as she ambled away. Draco watched the sky lighten further and set his sights on the horizon where the sun would pop over the grounds. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he stood there before the clattering of footsteps caused him to look away. Hermione and Harry came around the corner, Hermione’s face lighting up at the sight of him.

He returned the smile.

“Here you are. I was wondering where you’d vanished off to,” Hermione said, joining him at the window. “What are you doing up here?”

“This is where it happened,” Draco said, turning around. “Where this journey started.”

He hoped she’d understand. She looked confused and before she could figure it out, Harry, oddly enough, gasped and looked around with wide, emerald eyes.

“You ran all the way up here?” Harry asked. “Why?”

“Honestly? I was trying to get away from Addy,” Draco admitted, staring at the spot where he’d wedged himself between suits of armor before he took the final potion. “I didn’t want anyone around when I took the final potion, as I didn’t know what would happen. However, Addy followed me up here and got caught in…”

“The winds of Time,” Hermione offered. “So, you’re up here…”

“To greet the dawn,” Draco said, indicating it was almost time for the sun to break the horizon.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and I’m feeling good,” Hermione murmured in a sing-song voice Draco had never heard before. She caught his stare and blushed a little. “It’s a jazz song my mum listens to when she’s in a really good mood. Never mind.”

“It fits,” Harry said, pulling himself onto the windowsill. He drew his knees up to his chest and stared out the window with a small smile. “Voldemort is dead. He is not coming back. Sure, there might be some other big bad that’ll try to take his place, but Voldemort is gone. And, in our lives, he’s never been gone. It is a new day, a new life, a new world.”

“It’s unwritten,” Draco proclaimed as the sun rose up, lighting up the world. Hermione turned to him, weaving her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. “The rest of our lives…it’s unwritten.”

He blinked hard.

“I did it. I rewrote time.”

Harry snorted. Draco cut his eyes over and glared at his best friend.

“Yes. Good job. Now, what?”

Hermione shook her head and rested it on Draco’s shoulder.

“Nothing. It’s all unwritten. We’ve got to write something new,” she said.

“Or we think it’s new,” Harry challenged. “There will still be fixed points, we just won’t realize they are fixed anymore.”

Hermione slugged Harry in the arm and the pair began to bicker the finer points of time travel, Time, and everything they knew about how time and Time worked.

Draco smiled.

The rest of his life was unwritten.


End file.
